:  0        ,  EDUCATION 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 


BY 

COLIN  A.  SCOTT,  PH.D. 

HEAD  OF  THE  DEPARTMENT  OF  PSYCHOLOGY,  BOSTON 
NORMAL  SCHOOL 


GINN   &   COMPANY 

BOSTON  .  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  .  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 
BY  COLIN   A.  SCOTT 


ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED 
78.5 


fffte   athenaeum 


PREFACE 

The  aim  of  this  book  is  to  put  at  the  disposal  of  its 
readers  a  point  of  view  or  method  of  thinking  rather  than 
a  completed  system  of  thought.  Since  this  point  of  view 
is  social,  it  should  be  participated  in  by  the  pupils  as  well 
as  understood  by  the  teacher.  The  question  of  "  methods  " 
as  something  peculiar  to  the  outfit  of  the  teacher  is  thus 
absorbed  into  the  larger  and  more  practical  problem  of 
community  life. 

The  stimulus  to  such  thinking  comes  from  the  obser- 
vation of  the  facts  of  social  life  as  they  occur  in  the 
schoolroom  or  wherever  people  are  being  educated.  It  is 
interesting  to  observe  that  most  of  the  systems  of  educa- 
tion and  their  consequent  "methods"  have  had  another 
origin.  Herbart's  experience  as  a  private  tutor,  in  which 
capacity  he  was  engaged  principally  with  single  pupils, 
doubtless  gave  him  the  important  observations  of  fact  which 
led  to  his  theories.  When  Rousseau  explains  what  educa- 
tion should  be,  he  takes  one  pupil  and  artificially  isolates 
him  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  It  was  difficult  for  Pesta- 
lozzi  to  see  what  was  actually  occurring  among  the  children 
in  his  charge,  because  his  own  peculiar  experience  as  a 
child  was  constantly  in  the  background  of  his  mind  and 
constantly  affecting  his  emotions.  Other  writers,  as  Mon- 
taigne, Mill,  and  Herbert  Spencer,  have  in  mind  to  a  large 
extent  their  own  experience  as  individuals.  Their  views 
are  thus  largely  subjective. 

[Hi] 

2051086 


PREFACE 

The  actual  facts,  however,  press  upon  us  the  necessity 
for  social  observation  and  explanation.  Even  approximately 
scientific  results  cannot  otherwise  be  obtained.  Children  in 
the  schools  are  always  in  numbers,  and  classes  are  never  suc- 
cessfully taught  as  mere  collections  of  separate  individuals. 

The  experiences  described  in  this  book  are  therefore  noth- 
ing more  than  cases.  They  are  not  ideals  and  do  not  call 
for  imitation.  Every  group  for  education  and  cooperation 
will  differ  from  every  other,  just  as  individuals  differ  and 
the  circumstances  in  which  they  find  themselves.  The  point 
of  view  or  method  of  thinking  is  the  essential  factor  which 
makes  for  liberty,  social  cohesion,  and  thoroughness.  These 
same  educational  requirements  can  be  realized  in  entirely 
different  forms. 

As  suggested  above,  the  experiences  described  are  quite 
incomplete  and  fragmentary.  Even  so,  they  may  be  of 
considerable  service  to  the  reader  who  cares  to  habituate 
himself  to  the  social  point  of  view  in  education.  A  critical 
sketch  of  three  famous  schools  is  begun  in  Chapter  III. 
This  is  followed  by  descriptions  of  school  work,  which  are 
not  meant  to  represent  perfection  of  either  method  or 
attainment,  but  which,  it  is  believed,  succeed  in  showing 
some  features  of  the  social  spirit  more  completely  than  do 
the  three  examples  studied  in  Chapters  III,  IV,  and  V.  The 
two  chapters  on  self-organized  group  work  aim  to  show  the 
more  general  features  of  social  organization  in  the  school. 
The  concluding  chapters  of  the  book  take  up  some  special 
themes  of  education  and  attempt  to  show  to  what  extent  their 
best  teaching  depends  upon  a  recognition  of  social  facts. 

The  social  education  club,  the  Social  Education  Quarterly, 
and  the  social  education  congresses  held  in  Boston,  have 
[iv] 


PREFACE 

already  awakened  considerable  interest  in  the  movement 
they  represent,  —  a  movement  which  it  is  safe  to  say  is 
destined  to  stimulate  the  deepest,  the  most  progressive,  and 
the  most  characteristic  elements  in  American  education. 
The  state  and  the  school  can  avoid  the  evils  that  threaten 
them  only  by  a  more  comprehensive  and  deeper  social  syn- 
thesis organically  united  with  a  freer  and  more  thorough- 
going individual  development.  The  aim  of  this  book  will 
not  be  realized  if  it  does  not  add  something,  however  small, 
to  the  solution- of  this  problem. 

The  pleasant  duty  remains  to  acknowledge  the  assist- 
ance of  many  teachers  and  pupils  who  have,  by  their  coop- 
erative work  and  criticisms,  made  this  book  possible.  It  is 
only  because  they  are  now  so  numerous  that  special  recog- 
nition becomes  difficult  and  practically  impossible.  Of 
President  G.  Stanley  Hall,  without  whose  epoch-making 
work  in  child  study  the  observations  in  this  book  would 
have  been  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  I  desire  to  express  my 
sincerest  admiration.  To  Professor  W.  H.  Burnham,  Pro- 
fessor George  H.  Locke,  Principal  Myron  T.  Pritchard,  and 
to  my  colleagues,  Miss  Dora  Williams  and  Miss  Katherine 
Shute,  who  have  read  the  manuscript,  I  am  deeply  indebted 
for  many  valuable  suggestions.  To  President  Arthur  T. 
Hadley,  whose  criticism  was  most  profound  and  far-reaching, 
I  am  under  a  very  special  obligation.  Through  the  courtesy 
of  the  publishers  of  the  Educational  Review  I  have  been 
able  to  use  for  a  part  of  Chapter  VIII  a  portion  of  an  article 

which  appeared  in  that  magazine. 

COLIN  A.  SCOTT 


[v] 


CONTENTS 


PAGES 

CHAPTER  I.  THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE 
SCHOOL 1-22 

Man  as  a  member  of  society.  Society  not  formed  by  any  one's 
intention.  Society  establishes  the  school.  The  return  effect  of  the 
school  upon  society.  Discipline  in  social  education.  The  school 
as  a  system  of  causes.  Crowd  psychology  and  evolution.  Marginal 
consciousness  and  the  opinions  of  others.  The  uniformity  of  the 
school.  Why  the  school  is  imperfectly  social.  False  independence. 
The  formation  of  groups.  The  conditions  of  the  freedom  of  a 
group.  The  role  of  force.  Justice  and  liberty.  The  demand  for 
responsibility.  The  school  should  protect  the  best  activities  of 
groups. 

CHAPTER  II.    TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 23-42 

The  need  for  social  service  of  a  voluntary  character.  Dictated 
courses  of  study  justified  when  they  give  rise  to  voluntary  work. 
Such  justification  is  a  test  that  should  be  applied  to  all  courses  of 
study.  Rough  means  of  testing  the  schools  from  the  standpoint  of 
social  service.  How  private  and  professional  schools  are  tested. 
The  lack  of  suitable  tests  for  the  public  schools.  Improper  tests. 
Testing  by  means  of  industrial  work  with  which  other  subjects  are 
correlated.  Criticism  of  correlation.  The  logical  expansion  of 
interests.  What  is  it  to  indulge  one's  interests  ?  The  kindergarten 
and  primary  grades.  The  significance  of  the  circle  and  the  group. 
Leadership  of  groups.  To  what  extent  do  high-school  pupils  carry 
out  the  results  of  their  work  in  school  ?  Value  of  testing  for  the 
teaching  profession.  Teaching  a  social  work. 

CHAPTER  III.  THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — 
MONARCHY 43_57 

The  social  satisfaction  of  pupils  themselves.    The  social  motive  of 
honor.    Honor  yielded  to  those  above  us.     Honor  to  those  on  the 
[vii] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

same  level  and  below  us.  The  school  at  Abbotsholme.  The  con-  PAGES 
trast  between  this  school  and  the  ordinary  boarding  school.  The 
natural  affections  of  boys  in  school.  Dormitories.  Cooperation  in 
the  making  of  rules.  The  monarchical  type  of  honor.  Responsi- 
bility to  the  ruler.  The  outdoor  life  of  the  school.  The  indoor 
or  class-room  life.  How  does  an  ideal  monarchy  differ  from  a 
democracy  ?  The  power  to  create  plans  and  direct  others. 

CHAPTER   IV.     THE    SCHOOL   AS    AN    ORGANISM  — 

THE  REPUBLIC        .     .     . 58-77 

The  George  Junior  Republic.  Success  of  the  Republic.  Its  princi- 
ples of  organization.  The  role  played  by  Mr.  George.  Comparison 
between  the  Junior  Republic  and  the  state.  The  spontaneousness 
of  real  government.  Voting  not  a  mere  registration  of  opinion. 
Voting  is  not  for  individuals  but  for  society.  The  function  of 
coercion.  Protection  and  sustenance  of  the  socially  desirable. 
Excess  of  coercion  is  wasteful.  Coercion  ought  not  to  be  exer- 
cised by  children.  The  industrial  and  economic  features  of  the 
Junior  Republic.  Do  the  children  realize  the  actual  economic 
basis  of  the  Junior  Republic?  The  little  society  does  very  little 
experimenting.  What  are  the  motives  which  lead  to  the  honoring 
of  the  policeman  ?  The  right  of  children  to  be  protected  from 
economic  strain.  A  school  cannot  be  simply  a  reproduction  of  an 
adult  society.  The  real  cooperative  elements  of  the  Junior  Re- 
public shown  in  the  business  ventures.  The  school  city.  The 
self-direction  of  groups  as  distinguished  from  government. 

CHAPTER  V.   THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 78-101 

The  Dewey  school.  Pragmatism.  The  school  as  a  laboratory. 
Four  problems  worked  on  in  the  Dewey  school.  Whole  activities 
rather  than  sections  of  work.  The  gap  between  theory  and  prac- 
tice. The  social  defects  of  the  ordinary  school.  Inadequate  means 
of  correcting  them  in  the  Dewey  school.  The  disadvantage  of 
harking  back  to  social  successes  of  the  past.  The  mistake  in  losing 
sight  of  the  child's  real  motive  and  substituting  for  it  an  idea  of  the 
teacher's.  The  will  or  the  intention  of  the  child  is  the  vital  fact. 
Small  children  who  set  themselves  to  difficult  and  even  formal  tasks. 
A  course  of  study  is  a  teacher's  tool.  Leadership  is  necessary  as 
well  as  cooperative  obedience.  Analysis  of  individuals  versus 


CONTENTS 

analysis  of  groups.    A  contrast  between  the  biological  organism       PAGES 
and  society.    The  significance  of  group  organization  in  school  dis- 
cipline.   Punishment   is  disapproval  of  the  group.    Punishment 
to  prevent  hindrances.    The  role  of  the  teacher. 

CHAPTER  VI.   SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK   .     .  102-130 

Relationship  of  self-organized  work  to  the  dictated  work  of  the 
school.  How  this  work  was  introduced.  A  printing  group.  Three 
cooking  groups.  Importance  of  planning  beforehand  what  is  to 
be  done.  How  some  arithmetic  was  needed  to  overcome  some 
difficulties.  Internal  resistance  within  the  group  and  how  it  was 
overcome.  A  cooking  group  of  boys  alone.  A  photograph  group. 
The  play  of  The  Sleeping  Beauty.  Interest  of  the  home.  Attitude 
of  the  teacher.  The  gradual  extension  of  the  time  devoted  to 
self-organized  work.  Further  cases.  The  relationship  of  the  group 
to  the  rest  of  the  class.  The  use  of  reading  and  writing. 

CHAPTER  VII.  SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 
(continued) 131-169 

The  building  of  a  house  by  a  group  which  involved  the  rest  of  the 
class.  Care  must  be  taken  by  the  teacher  not  to  displace  the 
leader  of  the  group.  "  Drill "  and  real  inquiry.  The  element  of 
risk  in  starting  any  plan.  The  value  of  criticisms  and  temptations 
at  the  early  stages  of  a  piece  of  work.  The  case  of  the  penholder. 
A  class  in  German.  A  class  in  American  history.  Group  work  in 
Boston.  Old  Pipes  and  the  Dryad.  The  Charlestown  High 
School.  Group  work  in  science.  Marking  and  examinations. 
Marking  and  social  service.  Marking  and  scholarship.  Marking 
as  distributive  justice.  Cooperative  marking. 

CHAPTER  VIII.  REASONING  AND  THE  TEACHING 
OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC  FROM  A  SOCIETARY 
STANDPOINT 170-198 

Some  characteristics  of  inductive  reasoning.  The  difference  be- 
tween reasoning  and  perception.  The  adaptation  of  means  to  end. 
Hypotheses  to  be  tested  by  the  judgment  of  our  peers.  The  ulti- 
mate criterion  of  reasoning.  The  survival  of  society.  Science 
teaching.  The  deficiency  of  reasoning  power  in  high-school 
graduates.  Should  the  teacher  say  what  is  right  and  wrong  in 
[ix] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

reasoning  ?  The  value  of  hypotheses  in  learning.  A  lesson  on  PAGES 
steam.  The  character  of  children's  reasoning.  The  child's  real 
point  of  view.  Planning  on  the  child's  part  necessary.  Apper- 
ception related  to  reasoning.  Nature  study.  Lesson  on  a  bird's 
nest.  Lesson  on  ants.  Independent  reasoning  and  social  motives 
in  reasoning.  Work  in  arithmetic. 

CHAPTER  IX.  READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITER- 
ATURE   199-236 

Ear-mindedness  and  eye-mindedness.  Perverse  application  of  the 
laws  of  association.  Service  given  and  received  the  mainspring 
of  progress  in  reading.  The  origin  of  language.  The  develop- 
ment of  language  in  a  child.  The  building  up  from  percept  to 
concept.  At  both  these  stages  a  social  environment  presupposed. 
The  transition  from  spoken  to  written  language.  Immediate 
satisfaction  necessary  to  a  child  who  reads.  Case  of  reading 
lesson  in  first  grade.  The  value  of  expectation.  Mere  reading 
only  the  passive  half  of  a  completely  social  process.  The  value 
of  the  motor  ride.  Elocution.  The  necessity  for  a  real  audience. 
A  case  of  a  high-school  class  in  reading.  The  value  of  bodily  ex- 
pression in  reading.  The  emotions  in  literature.  Fear  and  love. 
The  effect  of  tragedies.  Red  Riding  Hood.  The  necessity  for 
specializing  in  emotional  expression.  Story  of  Willie  and  the 
circus.  Teachers  must  leam  to  interpret  children  at  first  hand. 
Children  must  learn  to  write  and  to  read  for  each  other. 

CHAPTER  X.  MANUAL  ARTS:  INDUSTRIAL  AND 
CONSTRUCTIVE  WORK 237-259 

Manual  arts  fundamental  to  life.  To  what  extent  is  the  manual 
worker  forced  to  produce  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  others  ? 
Social  organization  a  tool  whose  use  should  be  taught.  Man  as 
a  producer  and  man  as  a  consumer.  The  school  must  lead  as  well 
as  follow.  Manual  arts  an  excellent  subject  for  the  experimen- 
tation of  pupils.  Children  naturally  organize  for  the  sake  of  pro- 
ducing. The  physiological  side.  Without  social  power  manual 
drill  is  largely  wasted.  Children  construct  material  objects  for 
the  sake  of  understanding  them.  The  test  of  action.  Manual  train- 
ing begins  as  a  kind  of  dramatizing.  Constructive  work  must 
be  recovered  for  the  soul.  Material  construction  a  part  of  the 


CONTENTS 

construction  of  life.  The  disadvantage  of  a  strictly  prescribed  PAGES 
course  of  study.  The  invention  of  "  uses  "  by  teachers  for  what 
children  make.  Consumption  naturally  guides  production.  Vaca- 
tional  schools.  An  ethics  founded  on  work.  The  effect  of  good 
school  work  on  adult  life.  The  problem  of  classes  in  America  and 
private  schools. 

CHAPTER  XI.    FINE  ART 260-280 

The  control  of  work  in  drawing  should  be  in  the  hands  of 
teachers  not  of  artists.  The  correlation  of  drawing.  The  effect 
of  child  study.  The  effect  of  the  development  of  art.  The  fault 
of  separating  expression  from  its  social  conditions.  Young  chil- 
dren's drawings  are  dramatizations.  The  parable  of  the  attic.  Art 
of  the  present  day  not  accessory,  but  must  deliver  its  own  message. 
The  problem  of  art  expression  in  the  middle  and  upper  grades. 
The  child  should  be  protected  from  the  adult  environment.  Pro- 
tection does  not  mean  isolation.  The  thought  or  feeling  which  is 
expressed.  The  emotion  of  fear  and  the  value  of  the  grotesque. 
Cases  of  drawings  representing  objects  feared.  Art  in  the  higher 
grades  and  the  high  school  —  in  its  higher  and  more  restricted 
sense.  Inability  of  young  children  to  appreciate  higher  develop- 
ment of  art.  Economic  value  of  art.  The  art  museum. 

CHAPTER  XII.  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CON- 
SCIENCE    281-298 

The  feeling  of  being  a  moral  cause.  Imperatives  and  verification. 
The  selection  of  duties.  The  young  child's  development.  The 
social  ground  and  aim  of  conscience.  The  imaged  assembly  of 
persons.  Conscience  and  honor.  Egoism.  Envy.  Fault-finding. 
Service.  Originality  and  invention.  Case  drawn  from  the  school. 
The  need  for  experimentation.  The  value  of  discussion.  Busi- 
ness. The  church,  the  home,  and  the  school.  Cooperative  pro- 
duction the  flower  and  the  fruit  of  the  moral  life. 

INDEX 209-300 


[Xi] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

Education  is  a  work  which  is  not  confined  to  the 
schools.  It  is  an  undertaking  which  any  individual  may 
engage  in  to  a  greater  or  less  extent.  Each  one  has  at 
least  himself  to  educate,  and  the  most  of  people  are  inter- 
ested in  trying  to  effect  some  beneficial  changes  in  the 
minds  of  others.  The  schools  are  not  the  only  definite 
social  organization  which  pretends  to  educational  aims. 
The  church,  the  state,  the  club,  the  meeting,  business 
concerns,  and  even  gatherings  for  amusement  are  often 
consciously  educative.  Any  effort  which  is  designed  to 
conserve  values  and  develop  personality  makes  a  contri- 
bution to  education. 

The  school  as  a  special  organ  for  education  must  fit  into 
the  rest  of  society,  must  supplement  it  where  necessary, 
and  learn  from  it  on  every  side.  It  must  prepare  the  chil- 
dren to  live  the  best  possible  lives  both  for  themselves  and 
others  in  the  world  which  they  are  to  enter.  In  order  to 
do  this  the  school  must  be  adapted  not  only  to  the  present 
state  of  society,  but  it  must  select  the  influences  received 
and  perpetuate  those  which  are  best.  It  must  carefully 
avoid  fitting  children  for  a  past  or  lower  order  of  things. 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

It  must  indeed  do  more  than  this,  because  society  itself  is 
constantly  changing.  Not  only  the  industrial  and  business 
world,  but  the  whole  life  of  to-day  is  quite  different  from 
what  it  was  thirty  or  even  ten  years  ago.  To  be  really 
effective  the  school  is  forced  to  idealize  the  present  activi- 
ties of  society,  and  prepare  the  young  for  a  future  world 
which  exists  only  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  com- 
munity. The  school  at  its  best  is  a  prophecy,  as  every 
embryo  is  a  prophecy  of  a  better  and  nobler  life. 

To  be  a  true  prophecy  the  school  must  be  itself  alive 
and  growing.  The  ideals  of  the  adult  community  for  the 
school  remain  sterile  if  they  are  not  welcomed  and  do  not 
enter  into  the  lifeblood  not  only  of  the  teachers  but  also 
of  the  pupils  themselves.  More  than  this,  the  school  itself 
must  make  and  realize  something  at  least  of  its  own  proph- 
ecy. In  doing  so  it  must  necessarily  draw  support  and 
nourishment  from  the  adult  world,  and  adapt  itself  to  it, 
but  must  at  the  same  time  be  permitted  an  independence 
of  life  and  movement  which  will  win  the  admiration  and 
approval  of  those  who  maintain  its  existence  often  at  a 
sacrifice  to  themselves.  Individual  parents  frequently  real- 
ize this  attitude  with  their  several  children.  The  adult 
community  should  be  able  to  do  as  much  for  the  new 
community  which  they  are  sending  onward  to  the  unfought 
battles  and  the  untried  tasks  of  to-morrow. 

If  there  is  any  measure  of  truth  in  the  view  of  the 
school  as  an  indispensable  organ  of  society,  it  is  quite 
plain  that  some  preliminary  insight  into  the  nature  of  this 
society,  and  some  idea  of  the  essential  laws  of  its  growth 
and  progress,  is  absolutely  necessary  to  any  one  who  would 
wisely  help  in  its  evolution.  From  the  mental  mechanism 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

studied  by  individual  psychology  enough  cannot  be  deduced. 
Education  can  never  be  a  mere  matter  of  applied  psychol- 
ogy, if  this  term  be  used  in  the  strictest  sense.  Social 
relationships  must  be  studied  in  themselves,  and  not  con- 
fined to  the  nevertheless  necessary  individual  mechanism 
of  mind  or  brain.  It  is  indeed  a  question,  as  Tarde  claims, 
whether  even  the  power  to  think  is  not  itself  a  creature  of 
communication,  language,  and  social  intercourse. 

However  this  may  be,  all  the  important  needs  and 
aspirations  of  man  are  revealed  to  him  in  his  association 
with  others.  Without  his  fellow,  as  Aristotle  said,  man 
would  be  either  a  god  or  a  brute.  Except  from  a  purely 
physical  standpoint,  and  as  representing  the  unity  of  cell 
life,  man  as  an  individual  is  an  abstraction.  His  thoughts 
and  ideas,  his  ambitions,  his  hopes  and  fears,  his  knowl- 
edge and  morality,  drive  him  constantly  beyond  the  phys- 
ical organism.  His  real  self,  as  every  one  recognizes,  is 
not  merely  this  physical  organism,  but  includes  something 
spiritual  and  extra-physiological.  What  this  may  be  in  all 
its  aspects  is  not  our  present  function  to  determine,  but 
part,  at  least,  of  this  reality  is  social  and  consists  of  his 
relationships  to  others.  The  consciousness  of  what  worth 
a  man  is  to  others  represents  and  measures  a  large  part  of 
his  true  self.  Indeed,  if  we  could  discover  any  aspect  or 
portion  of  ourselves  which  never  came  into  contact  with, 
and  formed  no  part  of,  any  other  being,  whether  God  or 
man,  is  there  any  of  us  could  claim  it  as  his  own  ?  Our 
secret  thoughts  are  no  exception :  we  long  to  utter  them 
to  some  one.  When  we  know  them,  they  have  already 
clothed  themselves  in  language  of  some  form,  unuttered 
or  expressed.  This  language  is  born  from  our  contact 
[3] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

with  human  beings,  and  is  made  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
munication. 

Man,  as  we  know  him,  is  already  social.  The  existence 
of  society,  or  membership  in  society,  does  not  depend  upon 
the  will  of  any  individual  or  any  number  of  individuals. 
Society  was  not  formed  by  any  one's  intention.  Associa- 
tion itself  is  the  primary  fact  and  dominates  and  modifies 
the  character  of  each  constituent.  Like  the  copper  in 
bronze  or  brass,  the  individual  plays  his  part  in  the  com- 
bination. The  result  may  be  brass  or  bronze,  depending 
on  the  ingredients,  although  in  this  case,  since  it  is  never 
separable,  we  cannot  know  or  rightly  imagine  what  the 
copper  would  be  by  itself. 

The  truth  of  this  is  easily  seen  if  we  observe  our  own 
feelings  and  actions  in  the  various  groups  to  which  we 
belong.  In  the  family  we  are  one  thing,  with  a  group 
of  friends  another,  in  business  relationships  still  another. 
Even  when  we  are  alone  we  are  nevertheless  in  society. 
Our  thoughts  are  still  busy  with  others.  If  we  think  of 
ourselves,  it  is  ourselves  in  relation  to  some  social  group 
or  situation,  either  imagined  or  real.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
we  are  never  more  alone  than  when  in  the  physical  pres- 
ence of  others,  and  never  more  in  society  than  when  alone. 

Society  develops  by  the  action  of  social  individuals  upon 
one  another,  but  the  effects  of  this  action  are,  at  first, 
largely  unexpected  and  unforeseen  by  any  individual.  An 
illustration  may  help  to  make  this  plain.  The  first  trail  or 
pathway  was  worn  through  the  woods,  not  because  any 
one  thought  that  a  pathway  would  be  a  good  thing.  The 
pathway  was  the  unlooked-for  result  of  the  frequent  repe- 
tition of  the  same  action  perhaps  for  different  personal 
[4] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

motives.  After  the  pathway  has  once  appeared  it  becomes 
a  fact  which  is  not  dependent  on  any  one's  private  volition. 
It  may  grow  into  a  well-marked  roadway  or  into  a  crooked 
city  street.  It  has  its  own  nature  to  which  individuals 
who  travel  on  it  must  conform.  It  is  not  simply  an  effect. 
It  acts  as  a  cause  and  produces  effects  in  those  individ- 
uals who  are  forced  to  adapt  themselves  to  it.  Individuals 
can  use  it  or  modify  it  only  by  submitting  to  its  laws. 

The  application  of  the  illustration  is  not  difficult,  since 
society  may  conveniently  be  regarded  as  a  complex  of  path- 
ways which  are  worn  into  the  minds  and  brains  of  human 
beings  by  their  mutual  interaction.  In  one  form  or  another 
these  pathways  are  always  there.  They  are  not  made  pri- 
marily by  the  individual  owner  of  the  brain  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the  public.  They  are  not  made  primarily  by 
the  public  for  their  own  accommodation.  They  are  as 
much  objective  facts,  with  a  nature  of  their  own  to 
which  all  who  use  them  must  conform,  as  is  the  pathway 
in  the  woods  ;  so  long  as  people  are  in  contact,  which  is 
always,  either  by  word  or  pen,  in  imagination  or  reality, 
in  pleasure  or  business,  these  pathways  are  being  used, 
whether  we  will  or  not. 

Without  doubt  the  individual  whose  brain  paths  are 
being  used  socially  is  conscious  of  the  fact.  But  he  cannot 
prevent  it.  It  may  give  him  pain ;  the  result  may  seem 
useless  to  him  ;  but  his  private  wishes  and  private  feelings 
are  necessarily  borne  down  by  the  coercive  force  of  society, 
as  it  exists  in  the  structure  of  his  own  mind  and  the  action 
upon  it  of  the  minds  of  others. 

Of  this  coercive  action  of  society  there  is  no  better 
example  than  the  establishment  of  the  school.  This  is  not 
[5] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

an  institution  which  proceeded  from  individual  intention 
on  the  part  of  its  members.  Children  did  not  invent  the 
school.  They  may  yield  to  it  with  a  good  grace,  they  may 
even  wish  to  go ;  but  the  school  exists  and  is  maintained 
independently  of  their  attitude  on  the  question.  The 
school  is  primarily  an  effect  of  social  action  on  the  part  of 
the  community.  The  original  cause  of  the  school  exists  in 
the  thoughts  of  the  adult  community.  It  has  become  intol- 
erable to  society  at  large  to  see  a  child  grow  up  without 
what  are  called  the  rudiments  of  education.  That  every 
child  who  is  capable  of  it  shall  learn  to  read,  to  write,  and 
to  obey  is  felt  to  be  necessary  if  he  is  to  be  a  serviceable 
member  of  society.  It  is  not  primarily  for  his  own  individ- 
ual good  that  he  is  taken  from  his  free  and  wandering  life 
of  play.  It  is  for  what  society  can  get  out  of  him,  whether 
of  a  material  or  a  spiritual  kind,  that  he  is  sent  to  school. 

In  so  far  as  the  school  responds  effectively  to  the  social 
causes  which  maintain  it,  it  acts  as  a  cause  itself,  and  pro- 
duces return  effects  upon  society  at  large.  This  is  plainly 
seen  in  the  social  effect  of  the  present  widespread  ability  to 
read  and  write.  As  every  one  knows,  without  this  power 
modern  business  and  industry  would  soon  be  at  a  stand- 
still. Our  post  office,  our  newspapers,  our  telegraph  and 
cable  systems,  our  railways,  function  as  they  do  because 
of  this  general  public  capacity  developed  by  the  schools. 
If  for  no  other  reason  than  to  maintain  itself  at  its  present 
status,  society  would  be  justified  in  compelling  every  one 
capable  of  it  to  learn  this  much.  It  is,  however,  to  be 
noticed  that  when  children  in  any  considerable  numbers 
were  first  sent  to  school  and  taught  to  read,  the  social 
results  which  we  have  indicated  were  not  thought  of.  No 
[6] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

one  pictured  our  modern  newspapers  and  our  system  of 
advertising,  or  imagined  the  spread  of  our  postal  service. 
These  are  the  material  expressions  of  objective  social  facts, 
which  are  largely  the  unexpected  result  of  the  action  of 
the  school.  This,  however,  is  simply  an  instance  of  all 
social  development.  The  effect  always  turns  out  to  be  a 
cause  itself,  which,  reacting  upon  the  original  cause,  ree'n- 
forces  and  partly  changes  it. 

Still  more  fundamental  and  necessary  than  the  wide- 
spread capacity  to  read  and  write  is  the  need  of  social 
obedience.  w  It  is  difficult,"  says  J.  S.  Mill  (1),  "to  make  a 
free  and  warlike  people  submit  itself  to  the  yoke  of  civil 
government."  But  where  this  has  been  possible,  it  may  be 
observed,  says  he,  that  there  have  been  three  conditions 
fulfilled,  —  an  active  principle  of  cohesion  or  sympathy 
among  the  members  of  the  state,  a  feeling  of  allegiance 
or  loyalty,  and,  most  important,  "a  system  of  education, 
beginning  with  infancy  and  continued  through  life,  of 
which,  whatever  else  it  might  include,  one  main  and  in- 
cessant ingredient  was  restraining  discipline.  .  .  .  The 
entire  civil  and  military  policy  of  the  ancient  common- 
wealths was  such  a  system  of  training ;  in  modern  nations 
its  place  has  been  attempted  to  be  supplied,  principally, 
by  religious  teaching." 

Where,  as  in  America,  religious  teaching  is  no  longer 
associated  with  the  state,  it  becomes  all  the  more  neces- 
sary that  training  in  discipline  should  be  directly  organized 
by  means  of  schools.  If  free  and  warlike  people  are  to  be 
properly  tamed,  they  must  be  caught  while  young.  And 
if  religion  is  no  longer  to  be  taught,  something  else  must 
be  found  to  give  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  submission. 
[7] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Enough  has  been  said,  perhaps,  to  indicate  the  serious- 
ness of  the  problem  of  discipline  in  social  education.  It 
hardly  needs  to  be  dwelt  on.  The  typical  schoolmaster  is 
an  embodiment  of  its  most  obvious  and  perhaps  most 
superficial  demands.  He  transmits  the  pressure  of  the 
causal  forces  of  society  behind  him.  And  having  done  this 
much,  he  often  thinks  he  has  done  all.  But  a  cause,  how- 
ever great  and  overwhelming,  does  nothing  without  its 
immediate  effect.  A  hammer  falls.  If  it  falls  upon  a  nail, 
it  drives  it  in.  If  it  falls  upon  an  anvil,  it  makes  a  noise. 
If  it  falls  upon  a  stick  of  dynamite,  it  makes  a  still  greater 
stir.  To  confine  ourselves  to  the  falling  of  the  hammer, 
and  to  neglect  its  effects,  would  be  dangerous  as  well  as 
unscientific.  The  study  of  the  effect  and  its  peculiarities 
is  not  to  be  ignored. 

Society  establishes  the  school  by  the  compulsive  force 
of  its  demands,  and  it  requires  of  the  school  that  this  com- 
pulsive force  be  maintained  and  reenforced.  But  the  char- 
acteristic effects  of  the  action  within  the  school  itself  are 
not  primarily  considered  in  these  demands,  and  are  not 
known  to  society  as  a  whole.  The  operation  of  events 
within  the  school  is  left  largely  to  the  schoolmaster. 
Society  as  a  whole  is  only  concerned  when  these  effects 
begin  to  react  as  a  cause.  While  society  may  profitably 
enough  ask  the  question,  To  what  extent  does  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  school  produce  disciplined,  loyal,  and  cohesive 
members  of  society  ?  it  is  plain  that  the  working  prob- 
lems which  this  question  raises  are  problems  of  the  school 
and  not  of  the  demands  of  society.  They  are  the  business 
of  education  which  begins  its  characteristic  work  just 
where  the  compulsory  demands  of  society  leave  off. 
[8] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

Not  that  these  educational  effects  would  ever  occur 
but  for  their  controlling  causes,  but  only  that  when  these 
causes  have  once  passed  into  the  region  of  the  school  they 
must  necessarily  become  modified  and  transformed.  Indeed 
what  we,  as  citizens  of  an  adult  community,  feel  about  these 
questions  is  not  directly  relevant.  Such  feelings  belong  to 
the  outside  of  the  school  and  are  but  a  part  of  the  causes 
which  originate  and  maintain  it.  What  we  feel  simply  as 
parents  is  no  more  relevant.  Children  in  school,  or  in  associa- 
tion with  other  children  from  other  families,  find  themselves 
in  different  relationships  and  act  and  feel  differently  from 
what  they  do  at  home.  A  given  act,  a  word  or  look,  has  a 
different  effect  upon  them  from  what  it  has  at  home.  The 
school  is  something  more  than  a  mere  extension  of  the  state 
or  the  home.  It  is  a  social  combination,  with  social  feelings, 
sentiments,  and  needs  of  its  own.  By  constituting  it  at  all, 
society  has  constituted  it  a  social  organism,  certain  to  pro- 
duce definite  social  changes  in  the  brains  of  its  members. 

It  is  perhaps  sufficiently  evident  from  these  considera- 
tions that  the  schoolmaster  should  be  not  merely  a  mem- 
ber of  adult  society,  capable  of  transmitting  its  pressure  to 
the  school,  but  at  the  same  time  a  specialist  in  education. 
He  should  know  intimately  the  widest  range  of  effects  that 
can  be  produced  in  the  school.  He  should  realize  that 
these  are  not  effects  which  he  is  producing,  except  as  a 
necessary  medium  and  contributing  cause.  He  should  real- 
ize that  the  effects  are  written  in  the  minds  and  characters, 
the  actual  feelings  and  spontaneous  social  actions,  of  the 
children  themselves. 

Nor  does  he  need  to  wait  till  the  children  grow  up  to 
study  these  effects.  Not  only  what  they  do  in  school,  but 
[9] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

what  they  do  when  they  leave  the  schoolroom  and  are  free 
to  organize  themselves,  will  tell  the  tale.  Do  they  talk  of 
school  affairs,  and  in  what  way  ?  Do  they  loaf  in  parlors 
or  on  street  corners,  and  find  destructive  mischief  or  idle- 
ness more  fascinating  than  anything  they  have  gained  in 
school  ?  If  social  pathways  are  being  worn  into  their 
brains,  are  these  pathways  such  as  the  children  care  to 
use  themselves  when  they  come  in  contact  with  their  fel- 
lows ;  or  do  the  pathways  which  are  actually  used  have 
another  origin,  and  are  they  of  another  character  than 
those  which  the  fond  ideals  of  the  schoolmaster  picture  or 
'  the  interests  of  society  require  ? 

The  nature  of  any  combination  or  association  of  human 
beings  is,  of  course,  expressed  by  what  the  various  indi- 
viduals do  and  think.  The  social  pathways  we  have  spoken 
of  are  in  reality  alive,  and  consist  of  thoughts,  feelings,  and 
actions.  Sometimes  it  is  practically  the  same  thought  that 
exists  in  all.  A  mere  crowd  may  become  possessed  of  a 
single  idea,  and  may  be  led  to  do  things  in  a  moment  of 
impulse,  which  most  of  its  members  would  afterwards 
scorn  or  believe  impossible  to  accomplish.  When  a  given 
stimulus  brings  into  the  focus  of  consciousness  of  each 
individual  just  the  same  experience,  and  when  that  experi- 
ence is  known  to  be  shared,  we  have  social  action  of  the 
same  unvarying  kind,  whether  we  are  dealing  with  a  crowd 
or  with  a  succession  of  individuals.  There  is,  of  course,  a 
tendency  for  such  individuals  to  get  together,  to  select  the 
stimuli  which  make  them  feel  alike,  and  thus  to  act  as 
a  crowd. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  highest  or  most  characteristic 
form  of  social  action.  The  focus  of  consciousness  is,  after 
[10] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

all,  not  the  whole  of  it.  Although  it  is  intense,  it  is  con- 
tinually passing  from  one  idea  or  impulse  to  another. 
Better  organization  means  that,  even  while  we  are  feeling 
the  impulse  that  is  in  the  focus,  we  have  some  conscious- 
ness of  what  is  in  the  margin.  To  make  this  marginal 
consciousness  felt,  we  need  the  stimulus  of  other  people 
who  have  a  different  point  of  view,  and  who  may  have  in 
their  different  foci  of  consciousness  aspects  of  the  situation 
which  are  not  in  ours  at  the  time,  but  which  we  recognize 
as  capable  of  being  so.  People  related  in  this  way,  as  a 
group,  correspond  more  perfectly  to  the  large  and  varied 
relations  of  the  universe  in  which  we  live  than  if  they  all 
thought  alike. 

Interestingly  enough,  the  whole  movement  of  civilization 
has  been  a  gradual  change  from  the  predominance  of  the 
first  type  of  organization  to  the  second.  The  clan,  the 
tribe,  the  early  forms  of  religion,  insisted  first  of  all  upon 
uniformity,  and  were  unable  to  tolerate  much  difference  of 
character  and  opinion.  As  population  increased,  however, 
differentiation  necessarily  followed ;  while  the  division  of 
labor  and  other  functions  which  this  permitted  reacted 
favorably  upon  the  maintenance  and  further  increase  of 
population.  Modern  states  and  nations  are  characterized 
by  the  extraordinary  variety  of  individual  character  and 
capacity,  which  they  are  able  not  only  to  tolerate,  but  to 
turn  to  good  advantage  in  maintaining  their  cohesion  and 
stimulating  their  growth. 

This  is  evidently  a  most  important  fact  for  the  schools 
if  they  are  to  prepare  the  young  for  the  present  highly  dif- 
ferentiated state  of  society.  That  kind  of  education  which 
goes  no  further  than  to  make  every  pupil  as  like  his  neighbor 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

as  possible  would  not  seem  to  be  best  fitted  to  advance  the 
progress  of  the  race. 

It  is,  however,  quite  natural  that  the  school  should  begin 
on  this  level.  Until  very  recently  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  public  education.  The  schools  of  early  times  ministered 
to  a  special  class  of  the  community,  at  least  in  the  sense 
that  those  who  passed  through  them  formed  a  special  class. 
The  whole  differentiated  range  of  social  capacity  was  not 
represented  in  these  schools.  They  existed  practically  for 
the  sake  of  the  learned  professions  and  the  leisure  class. 
In  such  circumstances  a  considerable  degree  of  uniformity, 
since  it  affected  but  a  small  minority  of  the  population,  had 
no  very  serious  drawbacks.  The  rest  of  the  people  were 
educated  in  other  ways,  —  in  the  family,  and  through  the 
trade  or  occupation  to  which  they  belonged. 

When  schools  were  made  a  necessity  for  all,  it  was  also 
quite  natural  that  the  same  kind  of  education,  more  or  less 
suited  to  a  small  part  of  the  community,  should  be  opened 
to  all  alike,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  by  so  doing  the 
uniformity  latent  in  the  class  school  would  be  magnified  to 
national  proportions,  and  thus  become  quite  ineffective  in 
training  different  individuals  for  their  various  tasks  in  life. 
The  unfortunate  result  has  been  that  the  masses  of  the 
people  have  had  thrust  upon  them  second-hand  schools 
which  were  never  made  to  their  measure  or  adapted  to 
meet  their  needs. 

Some  consciousness  of  the  deadly  uniformity  of  school 
training,  and  its  inadequacy  to  meet  the  variety  of  modern 
conditions,  is  shown  in  the  increasing  public  demand  for 
individuality  and  independence.  At  first  sight  the  demand 
for  obedience  and  the  demand  for  individuality  run  counter 

[12] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

to  each  other.  To  the  teacher  who  does  not  study  closely 
the  operation  of  these  contrasting  demands  in  their  effects 
on  the  social  organism  of  the  school  itself,  they  are  certain 
to  seem  antagonistic.  But  since  the  demand  for  discipline 
is  more  ancient,  as  well  as  more  obvious,  while  that  for 
independence  is  of  more  recent  growth  and  harder  to 
understand,  the  average  teacher  does  little  more  than 
introduce  a  few  variations  of  his  authority,  which  are 
supposed  to  make  for  independence. 

Owing  to  the  pressure  of  outside  social  sentiment,  inde- 
pendent thinking  is  usually  held  up  as  a  great  virtue  in 
education,  and  if  such  a  thing  could  come  by  adjuration  or 
command,  we  should  have  no  lack  of  it  in  the  school.  But 
what  is  the  actual  practice  ?  Work  is  given  out  or  prob- 
lems enunciated,  and  the  teacher  insists  that  everything 
be  done  independently.  To  accomplish  this,  separate  desks 
are  used,  and  if  the  work  is  to  be  done  at  home,  threats, 
commands,  or  special  honor  codes  invented  by  the  teacher, 
but  not  accepted  naturally  by  the  school,  are  employed  to 
prevent  pupils  from  communicating.  When  the  exercises 
come  in,  the  results  of  this  "independent  thinking"  are 
strangely  uniform.  This  is,  of  course,  the  real  aim  of  the 
procedure,  which  originated  wholly  with  the  teacher. 

In  the  recitation  itself  the  situation  is  usually  the  same. 
Here  the  pupils  frequently  raise  their  hands  in  order  to 
answer  questions,  or,  rarely,  to  ask  them.  But  what  they 
say  depends  upon  what  the  teacher  has  determined  that 
they  shall  say,  and  their  minds  are  mainly  occupied  in 
thinking  what  this  may  be.  Even  when  the  recitation  is 
not  a  recital  of  a  previously  learned  lesson,  but  of  the 
nature  of  a  discussion  (so-called),  the  teacher  naturally 
[13] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

"  conducts "  it,  rules  out  stray  remarks,  and  nods  his 
approval  of  those  answers  which  he  has  been  "looking  for." 
It  is  evident  that  the  teacher  is  practically  the  cause  of  all 
that  is  happening.  No  pupil  is  conscious,  except  indirectly 
or  surreptitiously,  of  causing  effects  in  the  minds  of  his 
classmates.  He  is  not  using  the  social  pathways  of  his 
fellows,  nor  are  his  social  powers  being  used  by  them. 
Even  when  he  is  "allowed  some  rope,"  he  is  conscious  that 
the  rope  is  always  there.  However  necessary  and  right 
such  a  condition  of  affairs  may  be,  we  need  not  be  under 
the  illusion  that  it  is  cultivating  independence. 

But  we  are  frequently  told  that  in  America,  at  least,  we 
are  coming  to  have  too  much  independence,  that  liberty 
has  become  license,  and  individuality  mere  selfish  individ- 
ualism. This  is,  again,  a  demand  on  the  part  of  society 
which  we  should  do  well  to  heed.  Yet  we  are  forced  to 
ask  how  it  is  possible  that  the  school,  which  is  so  filled 
with  compulsory  demands  that  even  its  attempts  at  inde- 
pendence turn  out  illusory,  can  ever  be  held  accountable 
for  the  smallest  share  in  this  increase  of  individualism  ? 

The  answer  to  this  is  plain.  If  the  school  fails  to 
develop  a  true  individuality,  a  false  independence  will  be 
likely  to  take  its  place.  If  pupils  are  brought  up  in  exter- 
nal compulsion,  the  responsibilities  of  freedom  will  be 
unfamiliar  to  them.  If  they  have  no  practice  in  making 
and  using  social  pathways  in  the  brains  of  their  fellow 
pupils,  adapted  to  the  work  of  scholarship,  culture,  and 
worthy  production  of  whatever  kind,  when  they  leave  the 
school  and  are  free  from  its  coercion  they  naturally  seek 
those  pathways  which  they  know  and  which  they  have 
been  instrumental  in  creating.  When  a  pupil  leaves  the 
[14] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

school  we  do  not  find  him  seeking  social  groups  which 
organize  themselves  as  the  school  is  usually  organized. 
We  do  not  find  people  in  offices  and  parlors  getting  up 
and  asking  questions  to  which  every  one  knows  the  answer, 
or  is  expected  to  feel  disgraced  if  he  does  not.  The  indi- 
vidual who  should  become  seriously  enamored  of  the  ordi- 
nary school  practice  would  find  little  room  for  himself  in  the 
world  of  real  life.  The  particular  things  that  are  done  in 
school  do  not  cultiyate  even  a  working  majority  of  the 
habits  of  action  which  are  used  in  the  world  at  large. 
This  is  not  because  the  habits  of  action  of  the  school  are 
superior  to  those  of  the  world,  but  simply  because  they  are 
narrower,  and  better  suited  as  a  preparation  to  the  life  of 
a  primitive  clan  than  to  that  of  a  highly  differentiated 
society.  They  are  the  result  of  the  pressure  of  the  causal 
forces  of  society,  passed  on  by  the  teacher  without  consid- 
eration of  the  actual  effects  which  are  being  created  in  the 
social  organism  of  the  school  itself. 

In  real  life,  on  the  contrary,  society  at  its  best  organizes 
itself  in  groups  in  which  each  individual  in  the  various 
groups  to  which  he  may  belong,  finds  himself  in  contact 
with  others  whose  weaknesses  he  supplements  or  whose 
greater  powers  he  depends  upon.  The  idea  of  such  a  group 
as  a  whole  is  not  necessarily  contained  in  the  brain  of  any 
single  member,  and  as  the  idea  develops  by  social  interpen- 
etration,  it  becomes,  in  all  its  many-sidedness,  too  large  for 
any  member  to  contain.  The  function  that  each  plays  is  a 
different  one,  and  the  thought  of  each  concerning  the  group 
is  likewise  different.  And  yet  such  groups  tend  to  stick 
together.  They  exercise  some  form  of  moral  constraint  or 
attraction  upon  their  constituents,  who  yield  them  an 
[15] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

obedience  sufficient  to  maintain  their  cohesion  for  years, 
and  sometimes  for  generations.  If  the  school  is  to  prepare 
for  society  as  it  is,  it  would  be  natural  to  expect  that  some 
such  form  of  social  activity,  however  embryonic,  should  be 
found  as  a  necessary  feature  of  its  life. 

This,  however,  is  a  feature  of  organization  that  cannot 
come  from  the  direct  impact  of  outside  pressure.  Neither 
society  as  a  whole,  nor  its  personification  in  the  teacher, 
can  say  :  Go  to  ;  let  there  be  groups.  Xet  us  put  so  many 
in  one  group  and  so  many  in  another.  Let  us  select  indi- 
viduals according  to  their  capacities,  and  give  them  work 
that  will  be  suited  to  their  needs.  No,  a  real  social  group 
cannot  be  reduced  to  a  mere  instrument  of  the  teacher,  a 
means  or  a  method  for  accomplishing  certain  preconceived 
purposes.  It  is  necessarily  too  many-sided  for  that.  Nor 
can  the  constraint  required  and  the  obedience  developed 
originate  from  the  outside  of  the  group.  It  must  be  a  part 
of  its  own  specific  constitution  and  necessary  to  its  main- 
tenance. The  group  must  be  capable  of  going  to  pieces,  a 
thing  it  cannot  do  if  it  is  to  depend  on  the  authoritative 
backing  or  the  constraint  of  the  teacher.  Indeed,  it  is 
only  when  it  can  go  to  pieces  that  there  is  any  reality  in 
the  effort  to  hold  it  together.  It  is  only  then  that  there  is 
any  true  loyalty  developed.  It  is  only  then  that  its  mem- 
bers feel  the  characteristic  group  restraint,  and  submit 
their  private  wills  for  the  good  of  the  whole.  True  respon- 
sibility, and  even  obedience  of  the  highest  type,  is  felt  only 
when  the  group  as  a  whole  is  free. 

Such  conditions  of  responsibility  and  group  freedom 
must  obtain  wherever  individuals  are  members  of  any 
group,  whether  in  society  or  the  school.  But  in  so  far  as 
[16] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

they  are  also  members  of  the  state,  they  owe  a  still  greater 
loyalty  and  obedience  to  the  sovereign  group  or  institution 
which  makes  all  the  others  possible.  They  should  do 
nothing,  as  members  of  a  group,  which  is  foreign  to  the 
real  purpose  of  the  state,  and  the  state  must  necessarily 
be  able  to  check  by  force  any  attempt  which  would  militate 
against  it.  The  state  must  be  held  together,  whether  sub- 
ordinate groups  are  so  or  not. 

It  is  plain,  however,  that  in  present  modern  society  this 
does  not  turn  subordinate  groups  into  mere  agencies  of  the 
state.  Such  a  kind  of  socialism  is  nowhere  as  yet  a  real- 
ized fact.  At  present,  on  the  contrary,  self-organized 
groups  for  business,  for  pleasure,  for  culture  of  various 
kinds,  still  maintain  their  freedom  within  the  state.  They 
are  protected  by  it  whenever  force  is  necessary,  and  are 
sometimes  aided  and  encouraged.  The  state,  in  fact,  as 
sovereign  and  compulsory  force  of  society,  exists  largely 
for  this  purpose.  Indeed  the  assumption  back  of  any  state 
is  always  that  social  forces  are  already  at  work,  and  go  on 
continuously  without  compulsory  force  or  legal  coercion. 
As  every  one  knows,  when  widespread  social  sentiment  is 
not  behind  the  restrictions  or  commands  of  the  state, 
action  on  its  part  soon  becomes  impossible. 

The  modern  state  is  thus  nothing  more  than  a  kind  of 
forcible  reminder  of  what  is  latent  in  other  and  smaller 
groups.  In  such  circumstances,  however,  the  focus  of 
social  consciousness  tends  to  appear  within  the  subordinate 
groups.  The  vital  activities  of  society  are  carried  out  by 
them.  The  experiments  which  are  necessary,  and  the  risks 
which  these  entail,  are  naturally  undertaken  by  such 
smaller  groups  which,  it  is  obvious,  can  better  afford  to 
[17] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

go  to  pieces.  Meanwhile  the  larger  needs,  representing 
the  total  action  of  all  the  citizens,  and  often  remaining  in 
the  margin  of  the  social  consciousness  of  the  smaller 
groups,  are  always  embodied  in  the  state.  As  the  reader 
sees,  this  makes  of  the  state  not  so  much  an  initiator  as 
an  active  balancer  of  social  forces  already  in  existence,  a 
conception  quite  different  from  that  of  laissez  faire. 

We  have  already  pointed  out  the  fact  that  compulsory 
social  action  is  demanded  in  the  establishment  of  the 
school.  As  an  organized  whole,  society  gives  the  children 
a  compulsory  reminder  of  what  is  really  latent  in  them. 
It  insists  that  they  shall  grow  up  neither  ignorant  nor 
rebellious.  Such  educated  loyalty,  however,  is  just  the 
thing  which,  when  they  do  grow  up,  they  realize  as  most 
harmonious  with  their  plans.  If  it  were  not  so,  there 
would  be  no  justice  in  the  demand.  Force  is  used,  but  as 
soon  as  it  is  used  the  attempt  must  be  made  to  show  that 
it  is  justified,  that  it  has  led  to  a  larger  liberty  than  was 
formerly  enjoyed.  This  attempt,  indeed,  sums  up  the 
whole  of  education.  We  may  stop  a  crowd  by  force  from 
traveling  on  a  dangerous  highway,  but,  having  done  so,  we 
must  justify  the  action  by  showing  them  or  educating 
them  to  see  that  it  is  dangerous.  By  such  a  procedure  it 
is  felt  that  force  has  been  in  reality  but  a  reminder  of  their 
own  larger  plans  and  true  interests,  —  something  which 
has  brought  into  the  focus  of  consciousness  that  which 
was  already  in  the  margin  (2). 

But  in  the  matter  of  the  education  of  the  young,  when 

are  they  capable  of  appreciating  this  larger  liberty  ?    Must 

they  wait  until  their  majority,  and  have  it  burst  upon  them 

like  an  electric  flash  ?    Or  are  they  able  to  realize  some 

[18] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

of  it  from  the  very  beginning  ?  If  this  is  possible,  it  is 
plain  that  we  cannot  accept  a  mere  theoretic  acquiescence  — 
a  lip  service  —  superficially  copied  from  others,  and  not 
capable  of  controlling  action  as  a  self-sustaining  motive. 
Liberty  can  only  be  realized  by  conduct,  and  its  expres- 
sion is  always  self-direction,  self-organization,  and  self- 
control.  As  an  outcome  of  this,  it  will  mean  for  each,  if 
it  means  anything,  the  carrying  out  of  plans  which  run 
beyond  the  individual,  and  which  will  affect  other  indi- 
viduals in  a  similar  state  of  mind,  and  with  whom  he  can 
unite  in  a  social  group.  It  is  only  in  such  conditions  that 
the  individual  can  be  free.  There  is  no  liberty  in  merely 
being  quiet,  in  doing  nothing  that  may  involve,  challenge, 
or  interest  others.  Individual  self-control  must  have  a 
social  motive.  It  cannot  be  merely  negative. 

The  negative  view  of  liberty  and  independence  is,  how- 
ever, just  the  one  which  teachers  are  too  prone  to  take. 
In  this  attitude  they  are  at  one  with  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  thinking  public.  Ever  since  the  revolutions  of  a 
century  ago  there  has  been  a  marked  tendency  to  regard 
the  rights  of  the  individual  as  separate  rights,  and  to 
claim  that  an  individual  may  do  what  he  pleases  so  long 
as  he  does  not  interfere  with  others.  The  demand  is  an 
impossible  one,  and  even  if  a  person  could  withdraw  from 
every  contact  that  might  disturb  another,  his  very  isola- 
tion would  be  in  itself  an  offense  to  society  as  a  whole. 
The  real  meaning  of  the  demand  in  practical  affairs  is 
social, — that  is,  it  is  always  a  question  of  the  kind  of 
interference  ;  and  this  is  measured  by  the  interests  of  the 
social  group  to  which  the  individual  belongs.  It  is  the 
judgment  of  the  social  mind,  not  of  one  individual  or  of  a 
[19] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

number  of  individuals  as  such,  which  determines  whether 
any  given  action  is  an  interference  or  not.  There  is  no 
"good"  action  which  does  not  interfere  with  the  imme- 
diate focalized  plans  of  some  one,  and  often  with  those 
of  a  considerable  number,  if  progress  be  rapid. 

There  are,  of  course,  few  teachers  who  do  not  try  to 
make  the  individual  pupil  feel  responsibility.  But  they 
work  with  him  as  an  individual.  At  least,  this  is  what 
they  think  they  do.  Yet  an  individual  can  no  more  feel 
responsibility  without  some  social  motive  than  a  fish  can 
breathe  without  water.  In  a  school  run  on  separatist 
principles  the  children  are  like  fish  out  of  their  natural 
environment.  Morally  and  socially  they  lie  panting  on  the 
bank.  But  the  teacher  who  works  with  them  at  least 
brings  them  one  point  of  social  contact,  namely,  himself. 
Like  water  in  a  sponge  applied  to  the  gills  of  fish,  this  con- 
tact doubtless  succeeds  in  preventing  complete  dissolution. 

Not  that  the  teacher's  contact  is  ever  to  be  ignored. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  instead  of  a  sponge  a  teacher  is  an 
open  hydrant,  pouring  forth  wastefully  what  ought  to  be 
stimulating  and  life-giving  contact  with  society,  both  of 
the  present  and  of  the  past.  The  fact  remains,  however, 
that  usually  the  contact  is  unnecessarily  narrow.  Ask  the 
average  teacher  who  inculcates  responsibility,  "To  whom 
do  you  make  the  children  responsible  ? "  The  most  spon- 
taneous and  general  answer  is,  "Why,  of  course,  to  me." 
Sometimes,  however,  reflection  dictates  the  answer,  "To 
themselves,"  not  meaning  by  this  anything  social,  but 
"each  to  himself" — to  his  own  conscience  as  an  indi- 
vidual. There  is  a  truth  in  this  latter  answer,  but  only 
when  its  meaning  is  social.  Practically,  responsibility  to 

[20] 


THE  SOCIAL  RELATIONSHIPS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

self  tends  to  break  down  in  the  schoolroom  ;  and  the  real 
source  of  the  feeling  of  responsibility  on  the  part  of  the 
pupil  is  to  be  found  in  his  personal  relation  to  the  teacher, 
the  demands  and  wishes  of  his  parents,  or,  in  some  rare 
cases,  the  future,  hoped-for  career,  with  its  contacts  with 
the  wide  social  life  of  maturity,  which  some  children  are 
capable  of  feeling  at  a  fairly  early  age. 

Meanwhile,  in  all  these  cases  there  is  caused  a  serious 
neglect  of  the  immediate  brotherhood  of  his  companions, 
necessary  for  all  mutual  upbuilding  in  the  essentially  social 
and  spontaneous  work  of  education.  The  here  and  now  of 
real  help  and  service  is  sacrificed  to  a  beyond,  which,  even 
when  it  becomes  an  active  force,  does  so  with  less  strength 
and  vitality  than  it  might  naturally  possess.  If  children 
are  to  be  trained  socially,  they  must  feel  the  full  effects  of 
social  causes,  —  not  merely  of  society  at  large,  but  espe- 
cially those  of  the  embryonic  society  of  child  life  to  which 
they  belong.  They  must  study  these  effects  practically, 
and  must  see  to  what  extent,  as  social  beings,  they  are 
real  causes  themselves.  It  is  on  a  basis  of  experience  of 
this  kind  that  they  can  best  interpret  the  larger  and  more 
complex  life  of  adult  society  and  the  state. 

If  liberty  and  obedience,  characteristic  of  smaller  groups 
and  of  a  vital  and  focalized  social  character,  are  a  possible 
combination  for  the  young,  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should 
be  left  out  of  the  school,  although  this  institution,  even 
when  of  a  private  character,  primarily  represents  the  state. 
Social  groups  of  adults  in  society  at  large  are  always  in 
contact  with  the  state,  but  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  prevent 
their  real  freedom.  In  the  school  the  teacher  represents 
the  state  as  well  as  society  at  large.  If  children's  groups 

[21] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

are  left,  without  definite  recognition  by  the  school,  to  be 
formed  on  the  street  or  playground,  they  are  left  without 
proper  protection  and  hindered  in  their  normal  growth. 
As  a  consequence  they  tend  to  relapse  into  organizations 
for  mere  play.  And  even  play  is  not  sufficiently  protected. 
It  is  cut  short  on  every  side.  Fifteen  minutes  here  and 
half  an  hour  there  is  not  continuous  enough  for  the  carry- 
ing out  of  the  best  plans  of  which  even  play  groups  are 
capable.  Lack  of  facilities,  especially  in  cities,  hampers 
their  best  development.  The  haphazard  contact  with  the 
state  through  the  policeman,  or  other  members  of  adult 
society,  tends  to  make  such  activities  as  may  be  under- 
taken haphazard  themselves,  and  deficient  in  true  social 
significance.  That  contact  with  the  state,  which  the  state 
has  itself  devised  as  being  suitable  for  children,  namely, 
the  contact  with  an  intelligent,  learned,  socially  minded, 
and  sympathetic  teacher,  would  appear  to  be  the  only  con- 
dition in  which  such  groups  could  find  the  aid  and  the  pro- 
tection which  they  need.  It  is  only  under  this  condition 
that  we  may  expect  them  to  go  further  than  play  and  to 
undertake  real  and  serious  work. 

REFERENCES 

1.  J.  S.  Mill,  System  of  Logic,  Vol.  II,  pp.  519  ff. 

2.  Compare  with  Bosanquet's  view  of  society  in  The  Philosophical 
Theory  of  the  State. 


[22] 


CHAPTER  II 

TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

If  the  school  is  to  be  judged  by  its  success  in  giving 
satisfaction  to  present  society,  and  in  providing  for  the 
development  of  future  citizens,  it  is  necessary  that  there 
should  be  some  measurement  of  its  efforts  in  these  direc- 
tions. Indications  of  this  need  are  already  seen  on  every 
hand,  but  much  remains  to  be  done  to  render  the  tests 
proposed  suitable,  as  well  as  scientific  and  exact. 

The  demand,  for  example,  is  reasonably  enough  made 
that  pupils,  when  they  leave  the  school,  should  be  able  to 
use  the  best  advantages  of  the  life  of  the  community. 
They  should  have  a  taste  for  reading,  and  know  their  way 
about  in  a  library.  They  should  appreciate  art,  and  have 
an  intelligent  interest  in  exhibitions  and  museums.  They 
should  understand  music,  and  cooperate  in  extending  its 
wholesome  influence.  The  charitable,  social,  and  ethical 
activities  of  the  church  should  be  better  grasped  by  them 
because  of  their  school  experience.  The  newspaper  should 
be  read  more  discriminatingly,  and  business  life  be  guided 
by  habits  previously  acquired.  No  doubt  with  some  pupils, 
many  of  these  results  are  obtained  under  the  guidance  of 
a  good  teacher.  But  for  the  most  part,  the  school  as  an 
institution  has  not  provided  the  special  arrangements  which 
could  secure  the  best  results  in  these  directions.  It  is  felt 
that  there  is  a  gap  between  the  school  and  life.  No  doubt 
[23] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

the  pupils  are  often  told  that  this  higher  effectiveness  in 
life  is  what  they  should  look  forward  to.  But  there  is  lack 
of  opportunity  in  the  school  for  the  immediate  practice  of 
this  excellent  precept.  When  the  pupil  leaves  the  school 
his  reading  is  no  longer  done  at  the  dictation  of  an  author- 
ity who  sees  to  it  that  a  certain  amount  of  work  is  covered. 
No  one  insists  that  he  go  to  an  art  gallery  and  give  a 
report  of  what  he  sees.  His  higher  ethical  life  in  the  com- 
munity will  largely  depend  upon  his  own  initiative  and 
upon  the  companions  with  whom  he  voluntarily  chooses  to 
associate.  His  business  life  will  be  compelled  only  on  its 
lower  lines.  His  own  ambitions,  his  own  honor,  his  own 
power  to  plan  in  a  social  and  nonselfish  way,  will  yield  the 
best  of  what  he  is  worth  to  the  world,  and  even  to  himself. 
The  school  arranges  dictated  courses  of  study,  whether 
elective  or  not,  and  proceeds  to  carry  them  out  in  the  hope 
of  preparing  the  pupils  for  life.  Its  greatest  failure  is  its 
failure  to  test  its  product.  The  product  of  the  work  of  the 
school  is  evidently  not  a  given  amount  of  knowledge,  or 
skill,  or  mere  mental  power.  It  is  not  even  character, 
interpreted  in  the  usual  Puritan  sense.  It  can  be  nothing 
less  than  a  capacity  for  effective  social  service,  including 
here  as  an  essential  the  completest  possible  development 
of  personality.  When  a  nurseryman  cultivates  seedlings 
for  the  market,  it  is  not  sufficient  that  he  plows  and  har- 
rows, and  plants  his  seeds.  He  must  do  more  than  cast 
his  bread  upon  the  waters,  hoping  in  some  vague  way  that 
it  will  return  to  him  after  many  days.  On  the  contrary, 
he  tests  his  product  at  every  step.  Before  he  sends  his 
growing  trees  to  distant  orchards,  he  must  see  that  they 
are  already  doing  the  very  things  that  they  should  continue 
[24] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

to  do  when  transplanted.  Upon  this  basis  alone  is  he  secure 
in  the  faith  that  when  the  time  comes  they  may  do  more. 

If  the  capacity  for  effective  social  service  of  a  self- 
organized  and  voluntary  character  is  the  highest  aim  of 
the  school,  and  one  that  includes  and  controls  all  the 
others,  distinct  opportunity  for  such  work  ought  to  be  pro- 
vided in  the  school  itself.  When  this  is  done  such  work 
will  measure  the  rest  of  the  work  that  is  undertaken.  It 
will  be  known  to  what  extent  the  pupils  have  actually 
gained  by  their  dictated  courses  of  study  if  they  apply  the 
results  of  these  to  social  needs,  or  if,  in  attempting  to  carry 
out  their  own  social  projects,  they  revert  voluntarily  to  the 
classic  themes  of  education.  If  pupils  spontaneously  organ- 
ize themselves  for  the  purpose  of  studying  certain  aspects 
of  nature,  to  that  extent  the  dictated  nature  study  is  jus- 
tified. If  they  carry  out,  by  their  own  efforts  and  the  help 
which  they  solicit  from  others,  an  historical  inquiry  in 
which  they  become  interested,  or  an  arithmetical  calcula- 
tion based  on  their  own  wonder  or  others'  needs,  or  write 
and  act  a  drama  representing  their  own  ideals  of  life,  the 
way  in  which  they  do  these  things,  and  the  ideas  which 
govern  them,  will  show  whether  they  have  been  fructified 
by  the  dictated  courses  of  study  or  left  untouched  by  them. 
When  one  lights  a  fire  it  ought  to  keep  on  burning  without 
a  constant  application  of  matches  or  too  much  work  with 
the  bellows.  The  result  of  education  should  be  a  self-feeding 
fire.  The  only  way  to  test  it  is  for  the  teacher  not  to  hope, 
but  actually  to  see  whether  or  not  it  will  burn  alone. 

Certain  parts  of  the  school  system,  particularly  the 
special  and  private  schools,  the  trade  schools,  some  manual 
training  schools,  and  professional  schools  generally,  are  not 
[25] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

without  rough  means  of  testing  their  work.  Professional 
and  trade  schools  are  tested  by  the  immediate  success  of 
their  graduates.  The  school  of  engineering,  for  instance, 
cannot  afford  to  recommend  incompetents.  Its  growth  and 
maintenance  depend  on  the  reputation  of  those  it  sends 
out.  These  results  are  attained  both  by  selection  and  by 
a  watchful  adaptation  to  the  needs  of  the  public.  Many 
private  schools  are  constantly  tested  by  the  parents  who 
pay  the  bills.  It  is  true  that  a  test  from  this  quarter  is  not 
always  of  a  highly  educational  or  social  character.  Either 
narrow  self-interest  or  society  in  the  special  sense  of  the 
word  frequently  dominates.  The  deportment  and  manners 
of  the  children  are  often  of  the  first  consideration.  Some 
requirements,  tending  often  to  be  ornamental,  such  as 
music  or  French,  follow  next.  Deep  scholarship,  high  eth- 
ical aims,  or  wide  social  sympathy  are  frequently  neg- 
lected. Within  the  circle  of  the  demands  actually  made, 
the  contact  of  fellow-pupils,  and  this  of  a  superficial  and 
conventional  kind,  usually  counts  for  more  than  the  per- 
sonality or  ability  of  the  teacher.  Inadequate  as  these  tests 
are  as  regards  true  usefulness,  they  serve  the  purpose  of 
those  who  make  them. 

It  is  the  public  school,  devoted  to  general  culture,  from 
the  primary  grades  up  to  the  college  and  university,  that 
suffers  most  from  the  failure  to  test  its  work.  Public 
schools  ought  to  be  the  best  schools.  In  them  should  be 
realized  the  highest  educational  ideals  of  the  nation. 
Special  schools  may  be  roughly  and  imperfectly  tested  by 
the  success  of  individuals  after  they  leave  the  school. 
This  is  more  difficult  with  the  American  public  school, 
which  was  not  organized  to  fit  the  special  interests  of 
[26] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

individuals  but  to  serve  the  community  as  a  whole.  Most 
American  communities  insist  upon  compulsory  schooling 
for  all  children  until  they  are  fourteen  years  old.  Selection 
of  pupils  who  enter,  with  a  view  to  improving  the  output,  is 
thus  not  possible  below  this  age.  Every  one  must  be  per- 
mitted to  come.  Indeed,  the  most  backward  and  recalci- 
trant are,  from  some  standpoints,  deserving  of  the  great- 
est degree  of  attention.  The  cultivation  of  the  best  that  is 
in  each  child  is  the  task  of  the  people's  school. 

That  the  schools  are  largely  unmeasured  and  untested 
in  an  objective  manner  in  harmony  with  their  best  aims, 
leads  to  attempts  to  measure  them  by  some  lower  standard. 
We  have  already  had  some  experience,  in  England  more 
particularly,  of  "  payment  by  results."  This  has  been  carried 
out  by  means  of  examinations.  When  the  school  is  sup- 
ported financially  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  pupils 
who  take  scholarships,  or  to  the  number  who  pass  exami- 
nations set  by  outside  authorities,  the  efforts  of  the  school 
are  focused  on  the  acquiring  of  knowledge  for  a  given  ex- 
amination. Teachers  study  the  examiners'  idiosyncrasies, 
and  cram  their  students  to  get  the  results  required. 

But  it  is  not  only  in  England,  or  where  financial  pay- 
ment by  results  occurs,  that  similar  practices  obtain.  In 
Massachusetts  and  in  the  state  normal  schools,  supposed 
by  the  public  to  be  dedicated  to  the  study  of  the  best  in 
education,  a  clever  teacher  has  discovered  a  way  to  outwit 
the  examiners  for  the  benefit  of  his  pupils.  He  gives  his 
class  a  set  of  answers  to  learn,  whether  they  understand 
them  fully  or  not.  He  then  proceeds  to  teach  them  the 
subject  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  When  the  examiner  is 
more  exigeant,  or  the  teacher  less  bold  and  clever,  a 
[27] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

vicious  selection  often  occurs,  in  which  not  the  most 
thoughtful  and  original,  but  the  most  malleable  and  reten- 
tive minds  receive  the  maximum  effort.  Even  at  the  best, 
a  given  quantity  of  knowledge  is  not  a  sufficient  test  of  a 
student's  education. 

In  view  of  the  manifest  difficulty  of  testing  a  teacher's 
work,  a  demand  is  sometimes  made  to  approximate  the  gen- 
eral culture  schools  to  the  type  of  special  schools  where 
the  work  done  is  more  easily  measured.  Where  we  have 
manual  training  and  industrial  work  in  the  schools,  the 
growing  skill  of  the  pupils  can  be  readily  demonstrated. 
In  so  far  as  these  occupations  prepare  for  the  special  life 
work  which  the  pupil  is  to  undertake,  their  effectiveness  is 
directly  tested  in  the  market.  The  children,  moreover,  like 
such  work,  largely  because  they  see  results  themselves 
and  are  interested  in  the  output.  As  incidental  to  work  of 
this  kind,  a  considerable  amount  of  the  standard  require- 
ments of  the  school  can  very  profitably  be  acquired.  Cer- 
tain kinds  of  arithmetic  and  drawing  are  necessary  in 
making  and  executing  working  drawings.  Reading  and 
writing  can  be  brought  in  by  means  of  descriptions,  direc- 
tions, or  recipes.  Geography  may  be  touched  upon  and 
made  interesting  in  connection  with  the  material  which 
is  handled  or  the  object  manufactured. 

We  have  here  the  good  old  law  of  correlation,  useful 
enough  in  its  place.  The  idea  is  that  if  a  child  is  prima- 
rily interested  in  doing  something,  all  kinds  of  related  inter- 
ests can  be  loaded  on.  No  doubt  when  a  new  requirement 
of  knowledge  or  a  new  effort  appears  that  seems  to  the 
child  absolutely  necessary  to  the  accomplishment  of  what 
he  wants  to  do,  he  may  have  native  energy  enough  to 
[28] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

overcome  the  resistance.  But  he  may,  on  the  contrary,  feel 
like  giving  up  his  first  desire.  At  least,  he  may  simplify  it 
considerably  so  that  it  takes  in  far  less  than  the  teacher, 
with  his  cargo  of  interests  ready  to  load,  had  fondly  hoped. 
When  the  secondary  interests  are  not  absolutely  necessary 
as  means,  although  they  are  ever  so  logically  connected 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  teacher,  is  it  not  the  most 
practical  child,  rather  than  the  least,  who  betrays  a  disin- 
clination to  depart  from  the  immediate  aim  in  view,  or, 
after  its  satisfactory  accomplishment,  to  tack  on  other 
efforts  as  a  decoration  ?  Logic  consists  in  sticking  to  the 
point.  There  is,  after  all,  an  irreducible  surd  in  the  doc- 
trine of  correlation,  if  it  be  carried  very  far  and  measured 
by  the  natural  interests  of  the  child.  It  is  unpractical  to 
run  the  whole  school  on  this  plan.  If  the  compulsion  of 
the  teacher  is  required  to  keep  the  process  of  expansion 
going,  it  is  hard  to  see  why  he  might  not  just  as  well  have 
gone  after  his  problem  more  directly. 

The  doctrine  of  correlation  and  the  logical  expansion  of 
interests  suffers  from  the  fact  that  the  thinking  that  is 
done  under  these  titles  too  frequently  refers  to  interests 
looked  upon  as  existing  within  an  individual  child.  In 
order  to  develop  these  interests,  the  better  furnished  mind 
of  the  teacher  is  taken  as  the  standard,  and  the  child's 
interests  are  not  to  be  "  indulged,"  but  "directed  "  towards 
this  previously  assimilated  content  (i).  There  is,  however, 
nothing  new  here,  and  although  legitimate  as  a  factor,  it  is 
unnecessarily  narrow.  It  is,  moreover,  exposed  to  the 
danger  already  mentioned,  that  when  the  teacher's  direc- 
tion is  removed  the  interests  may  revert  to  simple  indul- 
gence, and  development  be  curtailed.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
[29] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

interests  are  to  get  the  trick  of  self-development,  some- 
thing must  be  found  in  these  interests  themselves  which 
leads  to  their  expansion. 

But  interests  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  really  expanded 
by  numerous  contacts  with  various  minds,  particularly  with 
those  on  similar  levels.  Something,  of  course,  should  come 
from  the  teacher.  But  the  total  contact  of  the  child's  mind 
with  his  social  environment,  both  within  and  without  the 
school,  is  surely  a  more  natural  and  broader  source  of 
"direction"  than  the  confines  of  any  single  mind.  The 
teacher  should  know  how  to  organize  the  school  socially, 
so  that  stimulating  influences  flow  from  one  pupil  to  another, 
and  from  the  school  to  the  community  as  well  as  from  the 
community  to  the  school.  A  feeling  of  greater  voluntary 
social  service  should  arise  in  the  pupil's  mind  when  he 
expands  his  interests.  This  is  indeed  the  greatest,  if  not 
the  only  effective  motive  capable  of  leading  him  to  enlarge 
his  efforts. 

When  this  expansion  comes  there  is  no  reason  why  the 
child  should  not  feel  that  he  is  "  indulging  "  his  interest. 
It  is,  of  course,  a  changed  and  developed  interest,  but  just 
for  that  reason  it  is  felt  to  be  more  worthy  of  being  real- 
ized. When  interests  are  "  directed  "  by  the  teacher,  is  it 
supposed  that  the  pupil  does  not  discover  the  fact  ?  Is  it 
as  easy  as  Rousseau  thought  to  "  dupe  the  child  "  ?  Close 
observation  seems  to  show  that  the  child  realizes  the  fact 
of  outside  direction  very  quickly,  although  he  may  not 
formulate  it  very  clearly.  Moreover,  if  he  is  a  good 
child,  he  feels  that  in  some  way  he  is  rendering  a  social 
service  to  the  teacher  in  acceding  to  the  various  "  direc- 
tions" of  what  are  supposed  to  be  his  interests.  How 
[30] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

often  in  schools  have  we  seen  children  acting  particularly 
well  when  they  felt  the  teacher's  professional  reputation 
was  at  stake ! 

But  if  the  child  be  at  all  clever,  he  soon  sees  that  he  is 
not  performing  any  intrinsic  social  service  for  the  teacher. 
He  sees,  for  example,  that  the  teacher  already  knows  the 
answers  to  the  questions  which  he  asks  the  children.  In 
fact,  the  teacher  tells  him  that  the  recitations  are  for  the 
pupils'  good,  and  not  for  the  teacher's.  What  feeling  of 
social  serviceableness  can  there  be  in  this,  and  is  it  likely 
that  such  activities  will  be  continued  when  the  conven- 
tional atmosphere  of  the  school  is  removed  ? 

Without  denying  the  great  importance  of  manual  train- 
ing and  industrial  work,  it  must  be  said  that  these,  as  well 
as  other  single  subjects,  are  not  adequate  as  a  center  for 
more  than  a  limited  number  of  the  interests  of  the  school. 
While  the  outside  measurement  of  the  work  of  the  school 
is  easy  so  far  as  these  subjects  themselves  are  concerned, 
they  do  not  cover  some  of  the  most  important  social 
demands  of  the  present  day.  Primitive  people  may  have 
advanced  in  civilization  by  means  of  industrial  inventions, 
but  these  were  not  the  only  factors  of  importance  in  their 
social  development.  Greater  affection,  fewer  superstitions, 
purer  religion  and  politics,  are  causes  as  well  as  effects  of 
industrial  progress.  Only  a  limited  portion  of  the  total 
social  serviceableness  which  we  have  a  right  to  expect  of  a 
well-equipped  individual  can  be  extracted  from,  or  closely 
and  spontaneously  correlated  with,  manual  training  and 
industrial  occupations. 

In  the  kindergarten  and  primary  grades  the  lack  of 
adequate  and  natural  measurement  does  not  seem  at  first 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

sight  so  important.  These  schools  are  often  partly  free 
from  the  demands  imposed  upon  them  from  without  or  by 
the  higher  grades.  To  waste  time  wisely  is  sometimes 
taken  as  their  motto,  though  the  measure  of  the  wisdom 
may  seem  hard  to  find.  These  schools  lie  near  the  home, 
and  it  is  not  infrequently  sought  to  make  their  methods 
and  atmosphere  approximate  what  is  supposed  to  obtain 
there.  This  analogy  seems  rather  superficial.  The  school 
can  never  successfully  imitate  the  home.  The  contact  of 
persons  in  the  school  is  of  a  different  kind.  The  school 
should  do  more  in  some  directions  than  any  home  could 
ever  do,  while  it  certainly  does  less  in  others.  Such  an 
analogy,  however,  probably  stands  for  little  more  than  the 
feeling  that  the  children  in  the  primary  school  should  be 
happy,  whatever  else.  This  is  certainly  sound,  but  there 
are  many  ways  of  being  happy,  some  of  which  are  more 
educative  than  others.  The  test  applied  to  the  primary 
schools  by  public  or  teachers  ought  in  some  way  to  reveal 
the  social  serviceableness  for  which  the  children  are  being 
educated. 

The  failure  of  proper  objective  tests  for  the  work  of  the 
kindergarten  has  recently  led  to  some  rather  violent  criti- 
cisms. It  has  been  said  that  the  kindergarten  produces 
moral  and  intellectual  flabbiness,  and  that,  marvelous  to 
say,  these  effects  are  so  lasting  as  to  be  traced  all  the  way 
to  the  university.  How  the  origin  of  this  flabbiness  is 
established  we  are  not  informed,  and  no  statistical  inquiry 
is  attempted.  Mere  opinions  as  they  are,  however,  these 
criticisms  are  met  by  little  more  than  other  opinions  of 
an  opposite  kind.  Just  what  the  kindergarten  does  suc- 
ceed in  doing  is  left  obscure. 

[32] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

The  ideals  of  the  kindergarten,  as  held  by  the  teachers 
of  that  department,  are  without  doubt  of  a  noble  social  char- 
acter ;  but  how  about  the  ideals  and  social  purposes  of  the 
kindergarten  as  held  by  the  little  tots  themselves  ?  Are  they 
too  young  to  have  any  social  purposes,  however  simple  ? 
The  circle  and  the  group  are  the  two  social  institutions 
of  the  kindergarten,  more  fundamental  to  its  constitution 
than  the  gifts,  the  games,  or  the  songs.  It  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed that  the  circle  and  the  group  are  significant  because 
they  are  fitted  to  a  stage  of  childish  growth  where  mass 
movements  and  tribal  instincts  dominate,  and  that  they 
succeed  in  transforming  these  instincts  into  something 
more  suitable  for  a  higher  stage  of  society.  The  circle 
particularly  reminds  one  of  the  celebrations  of  primitive 
people,  —  dances  where  every  foot  must  strike  the  ground 
at  the  same  moment,  songs  in  which  every  one  must  join, 
and  even  dramatizations  applied  to  useful  work,  where  the 
whole  tribe  performs  the  same  action  at  the  same  time. 
Biicher  (2)  for  example,  describes  a  Madagascar  tribe,  while 
planting  corn,  as  beginning  at  one  end  of  the  field  and 
moving  down  its  length  to  the  beat  of  a  drum,  each  mem- 
ber scratching  a  hole  with  one  foot,  dropping  in  the  corn, 
and  covering  it  with  the  other.  The  law  of  the  circle,  like 
that  of  the  early  tribe,  would  seem  to  be  one  of  strict  obedi- 
ence and  social  uniformity,  although  the  cohesion  involved 
is  produced  rather  by  the  authority  of  the  teacher  than  by 
the  compulsion  of  the  circle  as  a  whole.  That  this  appeals 
to  the  instincts  of  children  there  can  be  no  doubt. 

The  kindergarten  group,  it  would  appear,  represents  a 
step  towards  social  differentiation,  and  the  opportunity  for 
social  initiative  and  responsibility.  The  question  arises, 
[33] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

however,  To  what  extent  has  the  practice  of  the  modern 
American  kindergarten  actually  recognized  this  ?  In  many 
instances,  at  least,  it  seems  to  have  continued  in  the  group 
the  same  authority  and  leadership  of  the  teacher  which  is 
found  in  the  circle. 

It  may  be  that  the  difficulty  arises  from  the  fact  that 
the  kindergarten  ideas,  as  they  existed  in  Froebel's  mind, 
originated  from  his  experiences  with  children  of  greater 
age  than  those  which  the  American  kindergarten  is  forced 
to  receive.  Froebel,  at  least,  seems  to  have  had  in  mind 
the  natural,  self-formed  groups  of  children  from  seven  to 
eight.  In  "The  Education  of  Man,"  he  describes  boys  of 
this  age  building  with  blocks,  sand,  sawdust,  fine  green 
moss,  etc.  They  construct  a  chapel  with  a  cross  and  altar, 
a  castle  with  a  green  hill,  and  a  village.  Down  by  the 
brook  they  build  "  canals  and  sluices,  bridges  and  seaports, 
dams  and  mills."  Vessels  are  made.  The  various  groups 
come  into  contact  with  each  other.  Treaties  arise.  "All 
virtues  proceed  from  this,"  says  Froebel. 

How  far  the  modern  idea  of  the  group  has  departed  from 
this  may  be  shown  by  the  editorial  remarks  in  the  very 
edition  of  Froebel  from  which  the  above  has  been  selected. 
Here  a  group  is  represented  as  constructing  a  small  village 
out  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  gifts,  all  uniting  "  to  express  what 
they  know  about  the  history  of  wheat."  This  modern  kin- 
dergarten leader  then  goes  on  to  show  the  value  of  a  table 
for  such  work :  "  so  that  with  any  given  material  at  re- 
spectively equal  distances  from  the  circle  or  margin,  the 
work  will  be  strictly  symmetrical  and  definitely  related  to 
the  sides  and  angles,  diagonals  and  diameters  of  the  table 
top."  "  This  symmetrical  arrangement,"  he  says,  "  serves 
[34] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

as  a  powerful  connecting  link  among  the  individual  work- 
ers. They  soon  learn  to  contribute  their  material  and 
energy  to  the  execution  of  social  purposes,  with  little  or 
no  thought  of  individual  gain,  and  with  still  less  of  indi- 
vidual supremacy." 

But  was  there  ever  formed  any  real  human  group,  since 
the  days  of  the  matriarchate,  without  some  notion  of  indi- 
vidual supremacy  ?  The  tribes  soon  developed  a  leader,  and 
the  state  grew  as  leaders  increased.  This  means  sacri- 
fice, but  such  sacrifice  is  gain  and  produces  supremacy. 
This  is  true  so  long  as  the  gain  is  real  and  the  supremacy 
real  in  the  sense  of  accomplishing  results. 

The  real  center  of  group  formation  lies  in  the  under- 
standing of  leadership.  This  is  very  different  in  children 
from  what  is  found  in  adults.  It  is  probably  less  perma- 
nent and  responds  to  different  needs.  Whatever  it  is,  how- 
ever, such  leadership  will  take  account  of  the  actual  per- 
sonnel and  size  of  the  group,  and  of  the  actual  situation, 
material  and  social,  in  which  the  children  imagine  them- 
selves to  be,  as  well  as  of  their  aims,  purposes,  and  ideals. 
Boys  do  not  keep  together  at  the  brookside  nor  form 
treaties  without  such  leadership. 

But  if  the  groups  are  not  capable  of  being  used  socially 
by  children  so  young,  at  least  the  institution  of  free  play- 
time in  the  kindergarten  might  have  been  used  as  a  test  of 
leadership  and  a  revelation  of  what  the  children  are  capable 
of  doing  through  self -sustained  social  motives ;  and  to  some 
extent  and  with  some  teachers  it  is  so  used.  But  even 
when  free  play  is  not  looked  upon  with  indifference  or  hos- 
tility, or  excluded  altogether,  insufficient  care  is  taken  to 
find  out  what  the  children  are  capable  of  planning  for  this 
[35] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

period.  ( '  You  may  play  any  game  you  like,  or  you  may 
have  any  gift  you  wish,"  rather  limits  the  possibilities. 
The  desire  to  do  ought  often  to  spring  from  home  ex- 
periences or  from  the  games  and  plays  of  the  streets. 
As  it  is,  there  is  little  organization  in  the  free  playtime. 
It  has  the  merits  of  a  relaxation,  rather  than  a  wished-for 
opportunity  for  ambition  and  personal  or  social  desire. 

It  would  be  foolish  to  suppose  that  any  high  degree  of 
social  serviceableness  can  be  expected  of  children  so  young. 
If,  however,  their  plays  and  activities  ought  not  to  be 
largely  social,  but  of  a  biological,  hereditary,  and  racial 
character,  it  is  strange  that  we  find  in  the  kindergarten  a 
philosophy  more  saturated  with  social  ideals  than  anything 
that  is  to  be  found  higher  up  in  the  school.  It  is  a  con- 
dition that  gives  rise  to  a  suspicion  that  the  work  of  the 
kindergarten,  in  the  minds  of  the  children  themselves,  is 
not  to  be  tested  by,  and  does  not  flow  from,  the  ideas 
which  are  said  to  govern  it,  —  that  the  kindergarten  philos- 
ophy is  not  an  explanation  of  things  that  actually  happen 
among  the  children,  but  that  it  is  a  product  of  the  ideals 
and  aspirations  of  the  developed  adult  mind.  No  doubt  the 
adult  mind  reveals  a  part  of  what  lies  latent  in  the  child. 
We  may,  as  adults,  see  the  germ  of  higher  social  organiza- 
tion in  children's  plays,  but  the  germ  is  not  the  tree,  and  we 
need  some  means  of  testing  germs.  The  laws  of  the  germ 
are  its  own  laws,  and  to  impose  upon  it  standards  derived 
from  a  later  stage  is  to  destroy  the  possibilities  of  its  growth, 
while  to  be  unable  to  apply  any  standard  whatever  is  to 
work  in  the  dark  with  prejudice  or  sentiment  for  a  guide. 

While  the  standards  employed  are  inadequate,  there  is, 
however,  no  reason  why  the  school  should  not  continue  to 
[36] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

profit  by  the  various  tests,  insufficient  as  they  are,  by  which 
the  community  has  attempted  to  measure  its  work.  Some 
of  these  too  might  be  made  more  scientific,  as  Dr.  J.  M.  Rice 
proposes.  Knowledge  is  certainly  to  be  desired,  if  it  is  not 
made  the  controlling  aim.  Happiness  should  come  as  a 
result  of  every  good  effort.  To  be  equipped  to  earn  one's 
daily  bread  is  necessary  as  a  foundation  for  every  overtone 
of  culture.  In  order  to  make  our  educational  system  more 
social,  we  need  a  greater  number  and  variety  of  special 
trade  schools,  as  well  as  a  preliminary  training  in  such  sub- 
jects as  will  lead  up  to  them.  But  the  school  devoted  prin- 
cipally to  general  culture  cannot  afford  to  be  measured 
entirely  by  these  demands.  The  work  of  a  school  needs  a 
test,  not  remote  and  future,  not  extraneous  to  its  largest 
aims,  but  one  that  can  be  immediately  and  constantly  used, 
that  can  be  easily  understood,  that  is  as  simple  as  possible, 
and  that  will  be  welcomed  and  enjoyed  by  both  teachers 
and  pupils. 

Not  long  ago,  during  the  holidays,  I  asked  a  typical  first- 
year  high-school  girl  whom  I  knew  very  well,  and  who  had 
done  well  in  her  classes,  whether  she  thought  or  talked 
about  anything  that  she  had  formerly  done  in  school  now 
that  she  was  free  to  do  as  she  wished,  or  whether  she  now 
used  any  of  the  interests  which  she  might  have  been  sup- 
posed to  have  acquired.  She  told  me  that  she  never  thought 
of  her  Latin  or  algebra  for  a  moment,  but  that  she  had 
liked  "  Marmion  "  when  she  read  it  in  school.  I  asked  her 
if  she  wished  to  read  anything  more  of  the  same  kind,  and 
suggested  "  The  Lady  of  the  Lake."  "  Oh,"  she  said,  "  I 
don't  want  to  read  anything  of  that  sort ;  I  don't  like  poetry, 
anyway."  She  was,  however,  reading  a  novel  of  Dickens's. 
[37] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

She  had  formerly  read  another  novel  by  the  same  author 
at  her  mother's  suggestion,  and  liked  it  so  much  that  she 
wished  to  read  a  second.  She  said,  too,  that  if  she  were  not 
going  back  to  school  in  the  autumn,  she  should  like  to  go 
on  with  her  French.  I  asked  her  why,  and  she  replied  that 
she  should  like  to  be  able  to  speak  French  if  she  ever  trav- 
eled abroad.  As  her  sister  was  just  about  to  spend  a  year 
in  France,  the  practical  aspect  of  this  appealed  to  her.  The 
same  girl  was  popular  with  her  school  companions,  had 
joined  a  little  club  with  them,  and  was  naturally  active  in 
a  social  way. 

These  replies  seem  to  indicate  just  a  natural,  healthy- 
minded  girl.  No  one  could  wish  that  she  continue  her 
high-school  grind  during  the  holidays.  Nor  ought  it  to 
be  said  that  her  work  in  Latin  and  algebra  was  entirely 
useless.  She  had  doubtless  learned  the  very  important 
lesson,  that  a  daily  task,  when  set  by  others,  had  to  be 
attended  to  whether  it  was  agreeable  or  not.  Her  language 
showed  only  ordinary  culture,  reflecting  apparently  her 
home  environment  rather  than  the  accuracies  or  subtleties 
that  might  be  supposed  to  come  from  translating  Latin  and 
French.  Others,  at  least,  taking  the  same  course,  varied 
widely  from  her  in  this  respect,  —  a  fact  also  probably 
connected  with  their  home  environments.  Her  reasoning 
power  in  ordinary  affairs  revealed  no  traceable  impress  of 
her  work  in  algebra.  A  great  part  of  what  she  had  been 
doing  showed  no  perceptible  results  in  her  development. 
Perhaps  some  teachers  would  say  it  was  capitalized  for 
a  college  course,  and  not  yet  able  to  pay  dividends. 

The  question  is  not  at  all  whether  such  a  course  is  value- 
less. The  Greek  triremes  or  the  barques  of  Columbus  were 
[38] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

of  indispensable  value,  but  they  do  not  measure  up  with 
an  Atlantic  liner.  That  a  given  course  of  study  is  better 
than  some  others,  or  better  than  none,  is  saying  very  little 
for  it.  Columbus  might  have  said  as  much  for  his  ships. 
The  Atlantic  liner  in  education  has  not  yet  been  invented, 
but  is  this  not  largely  because  we  do  not  realize  sufficiently 
the  nature  of  the  task  we  intend  to  accomplish  ?  We  fail  to 
test  our  efforts  objectively,  especially  along  the  lines  where 
we  should  well  be  justified  in  expecting  the  greatest  progress. 
If  increased  social  serviceableness  and  the  highest  develop- 
ment of  personality  are  our  aims,  we  need,  as  teachers  and 
as  citizens  responsible  for  education,  not  only  the  best  ob- 
tainable knowledge  of  the  nature  of  these  aims,  but  some 
objective  test  of  the  results  of  our  efforts  in  these  directions. 
The  value  of  such  a  test,  moreover,  is  to  be  estimated 
not  only  from  the  standpoint  of  better  work  in  the  school 
and  better  understanding  of  it  by  the  pupils  at  large,  but 
by  the  beneficial  effect  it  would  undoubtedly  have  upon  the 
standing  and  organization  of  the  teaching  profession.  This 
suffers  at  present  both  from  the  large  number  of  poor 
teachers  it  contains  and  from  their  isolation  and  lack  of 
cooperation.  In  many  branches,  indeed,  it  is  a  question 
whether  we  should  not  speak  of  the  teaching  trade  rather 
than  of  the  teaching  profession.  Both  incomes  and  social 
consideration  are  reduced  to  the  lowest  terms.  Many  trades- 
women, to  say  nothing  of  tradesmen,  are  paid  more  and 
perhaps  are  equally  honored  in  the  community.  In  Boston, 
for  example,  a  moderately  competent  dressmaker  receives 
$3  or  more  per  day  (about  $900  per  year),  and  may  rise 
to  well-paid  business  positions  or  succeed  in  obtaining  an 
establishment  of  her  own. 
L  [39] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

One  of  the  chief  marks  of  a  profession  is  that  it  controls 
its  own  work.  Teachers,  however,  frequently  seem  content 
to  have  their  work  laid  out  for  them.  This  is  nominally 
done  by  school  boards,  but  practically  by  a  superior  class 
of  teachers,  who  often  are  proud  to  be  called  by  some  other 
name.  The  course  of  study  crystallizes  the  directions  of 
this  superior  class  and  makes  it  possible  for  them  to  see 
that  the  pupils  have  a  certain  amount  of  instruction,  even 
if  they  are  not  really  educated. 

Sometimes,  it  must  be  admitted,  a  clever  teacher  can 
"get  round"  the  principal  or  supervisor  sufficiently  to  be 
permitted  to  do  the  things  that  she  judges  best  in  her  own 
class  room.  It  is  a  permission,  however,  and  not  a  right. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  best  principals  and  supervisors  are 
without  doubt  looking  for  original,  progressive  teachers,  and 
are  glad  to  give  them  the  necessary  permission  ;  but,  unfor- 
tunately, both  teachers  and  principals  of  this  kind  are  ex- 
ceptional. The  average  teacher  meanwhile  feels  nothing 
unnatural  in  her  rdle  of  unreflecting  docility.  Indeed,  she 
seems  to  yearn  for  it.  She  "  works  "  so  many  hours  a  day, 
and  only  wonders  why  some  one  who  does  no  more  "  work  " 
a  day  than  she,  often  gets  a  higher  wage. 

It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  a  teacher  who  is  not 
docile  is  independently  or  cooperatively  responsible  or  origi- 
nal. It  is  quite  possible  that,  like  the  poorly  trained  me- 
chanic, she  can  be  relied  on  only  up  to  a  certain  point. 
The  principal  or  superior  is  then  forced  to  direct  nothing 
beyond  what  she  is  capable  of  executing,  —  a  position  some- 
thing like  that  of  the  old  woman,  who,  having  in  vain  com- 
manded her  dog  to  come  out  from  under  the  bed,  was  at 
last  forced  to  say,  "  I  will  be  obeyed  at  any  rate ;  so  stay 
[40] 


TESTS  FOR  THE  SCHOOL 

there  and  don't  dare  to  come  out."  After  some  experiences 
of  this  kind,  the  principal  or  supervisor  is  loath  to  overstep 
the  bounds  set  for  him  by  the  docility  of  his  teachers,  is 
suspicious  of  originality,  becomes  fonder  of  platitudes  and 
more  disinclined  to  take  risks,  but  succeeds  in  holding  his 
job.  If  his  soul  could  be  freed  from  the  slow  and  icy 
flow  of  docility  that  overwhelms  it,  the  scratches  and  sheep- 
backed  hummocks  of  a  true  glaciation  would  doubtless  be 
revealed. 

So  long  as  teaching  is  trade-like,  centralization,  over- 
emphasized authority,  and  standardized  courses  of  study, 
although  varying  with  every  town  and  city,  will  be  found 
necessary,  however  inadequate  they  may  be.  As  soon  as 
teaching  becomes  a  profession  all  the  way  down,  these 
features  will  drop  away,  and  a  more  social  relationship, 
where  the  rights  of  the  individual  teacher  are  properly  safe- 
guarded, will  surely  supervene.  This  is  a  condition  that 
can  never  come  until  teachers  look  beyond  their  daily  or 
even  yearly  "work  "  ;  until  they  see  more  clearly  the  social 
ideals  for  which  education  is  striving ;  until  they  grasp 
the  essentials  of  the  social  environment  in  which  they  are 
living;  until  they  cooperate  freely  and  steadily  with  one 
another ;  and  until  they  are  competent  to  experiment  with 
and  actually  create  and  control  a  large  portion  of  their 
own  professional  activities. 

Such  experimenting  and  such  creating,  however,  is  im- 
possible without  measurement,  and  it  must  be  a  measure- 
ment not  of  mere  knowledge,  but  of  social  capacity  and 
productive  powers.  It  must,  above  all,  be  so  objective  as 
to  leave  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  even  the  average  citizen, 
that  the  same  self-organizing  ability  that  is  manifested  in 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

school  will  be  amply  sustained  in  later  life.  As  already 
suggested,  this  test  can  be  found  only  in  the  extent  to 
which  pupils,  when  freed  from  the  oversight  and  benevolent 
coercion  of  the  teacher,  can  use  the  knowledge  and  carry 
out  the  habits  and  ideals  which  it  is  the  aim  of  the  school 
to  foster  and  protect.  But  this  is  a  test  which  ought  not 
to  be  left  out  of  the  school  itself.  It  should  be  an  intimate 
and  organic  portion  of  every  school,  and  the  results  of  it 
should  react  immediately  upon  everything  else  that  is  at- 
tempted. How  can  such  a  test  be  organized  within  the 
school  ? 

REFERENCES 

1.  John  Dewey,  School  and  Society.   University  of  Chicago  Press. 

2.  Karl  Biicher,  Arbeit  und  Rhythmus.    Leipsic,  1896. 


[42] 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

The  consideration  of  the  question  at  the  end  of  the  last 
chapter  will  lead  us  to  look  more  carefully  into  the  internal 
organization  of  the  school  as  distinguished  from  its  service 
to  society  as  a  whole.  In  order  to  pursue  this  inquiry  as 
inductively  as  possible,  actual  cases  of  schools  which  have 
specially  manifested  the  social  spirit  must  be  studied  in 
detail,  and  we  must  ask  in  these  cases  to  what  extent  the 
pupils  are  self-organized  and  productive  members  of  the 
embryonic  society  to  which  they  belong.  What  social  sat- 
isfaction do  the  pupils  themselves  get  out  of  their  life  is 
a  question  which  must  be  asked  of  every  school. 

In  illustration  of  a  similar  theme,  Professor  Jenks  (1)  cites 
an  experience  of  his  own,  the  public  nature  of  which,  he  says, 
should  have  been  made  manifest  to  him  at  the  time.  "  When 
a  pupil  in  a  district  school,"  he  goes  on,  "I  trudged  off  with 
a  comrade  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  bring  a  pail  of  drinking 
water,  I  believe  that  an  added  value  would  have  been  given 
to  the  outdoor  freedom  if  I  had  been  made  to  realize  that 
I  was  doing  a  citizen's  duty,  working  for  the  public  !  " 

It  is  not,  of  course,  by  any  mere  dogmatic  explanation 
that  a  teacher  could  best  succeed,  or  even  succeed  at  all, 
in  teaching  the  full  social  value  of  such  a  service.  To  be 
socially  effective,  the  action  should  proceed  from  the  com- 
bined desires  of  the  participants.  Under  these  circumstances 
[43] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

various  considerations  might  have  entered  into  the  selection 
of  the  water  carrier,  —  his  personal  popularity,  his  general 
merit,  or  his  special  fitness  for  the  task  in  hand  ;  but  in  any 
event  the  honor  of  being  chosen  by  his  mates  would  have 
added  meaning  and  value  to  what  was  permitted  to  seem 
merely  a  release  from  the  irksome  confinement  of  the 
schoolroom. 

As  far  as  the  social  motive  of  honor  is  concerned,  it  may 
well  be  asked  if  the  boy  could  have  felt  this  any  more  if 
chosen  by  the  pupils  rather  than  by  the  teacher.  The  psy- 
chology of  the  honor  feeling  and  honor  motives  lies  at  the 
root  of  much  that  is  best  in  society,  and  their  deterioration, 
as  Franz  Krauss  shows  in  his  study  of  folk  death,  means 
the  decadence  of  the  race.  To  wish  to  be  honored  by  those 
distinctly  above  one,  means  that  one  respects  them  and  has 
a  tendency  to  imitate  them.  It  is  probably  easier  to  love 
those  above  than  those  below,  or  to  do  them  a  service.  How 
eager  we  often  are  to  lay  our  purses  at  the  feet  of  a  real 
leader,  while  needed  help  or  charity  is  carefully  meted  out 
to  those  on  our  own  level  or  below  it.  This  is  often  true 
where  there  is  no  conscious  expectation  of  a  return.  Our 
purpose  is  an  idealized  one,  and  arises  in  obedience  to  an 
instinctive  feeling.  Even  when  love  does  not  enter  in, 
admiration  is  sufficient  to  cause  respect  and  imitation. 
Lower  races  in  this  way  imitate  their  conquerors,  and  the 
lower  classes  aspire  to  the  experiences  which  they  observe 
in  those  above  them,  which  they  never  would  have  thought 
of  for  themselves.  In  the  stimulation  of  the  honor  feeling 
by  a  superior  there  is  without  doubt  an  important  element 
of  social  education.  But  when  the  teacher  dispenses  the 
honors  it  is  almost  inevitable  that  he  consults  only  his  own 
[44] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

judgment  and  is  satisfied  with  his  own  point  of  view. 
His  choice  often  seems  to  the  school  purely  arbitrary, 
and  a  matter  of  personal  favor,  even  when  he  is  sin- 
cerely honest  in  his  purpose.  In  consequence,  jealousy 
and  envy  and  the  sense  of  injustice  are  aroused  and  work 
the  greatest  havoc.  When  the  teacher  reserves  the  privi- 
lege of  honoring  worthy  pupils,  he  should  certainly  try  to 
ascertain  the  school's  point  of  view  and  make  his  action, 
so  far  as  possible,  coincide  with  it.  If  he  defies  it,  he  has 
hindered  his  own  ends. 

When  the  school  is  a  boarding  school  and  takes  charge 
of  the  whole  life  of  the  child,  a  larger  number  of  responsi- 
ble privileges  may  be  dispensed.  This  is  certainly  not  often 
realized  in  boarding  schools,  and  in  many  such  schools  the 
question,  What  boys  are  feeling  themselves  honored  in  the 
activities  they  are  performing  ?  would  meet  with  a  rather 
negative  answer. 

Of  a  very  different  type  is  the  school  at  Abbotsholme, 
England,  under  the  principalship  of  Dr.  Cecil  Reddie.  Here 
the  boys  are  trained  to  a  high  sense  of  honor  by  a  method 
which  goes  far  beyond  the  mere  distribution  of  little  privi- 
leges. The  school  indeed  has  become  a  state,  but  it  is  a 
state  of  a  certain  type.  This  is  plainly  indicated  in  Dr. 
Reddie's  designation  of  it  as  a  school  for  the  directing 
classes,  and  in  the  fact  that  the  whole  life  and  management 
of  the  school  is  derived  from  its  monarch.  This,  however, 
does  not  prevent  a  thoroughly  willing  system  of  honorable 
and  honor-loving  cooperation,  and  the  great  success  of  the 
institution  in  realizing  the  happiness  and  characters  of  the 
pupils  raises  the  question  whether  a  good  monarchy  is  not 
better  than  an  indifferent  democracy. 
[45] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The  social  features  of  this  remarkable  school,  which 
already  has  a  number  of  offshoots  or  colonies  in  other 
parts  of  England,  France,  and  Germany,  are  founded  on  an 
insight  into  the  real  capacities  and  emotional  undercurrents 
of  the  pupils.  As  Dr.  Reddie  claims,  the  school  aims  to  di- 
minish competition  and  increase  cooperation.  This  principle 
is  applied  in  the  first  place  to  the  natural  affections  of  the 
boys  for  each  other.  The  management  of  the  ordinary  board- 
ing school  often  tends  to  sharpen  rivalries.  In  class  work 
one  boy  is  set  against  another.  Close  friendships  among 
the  boys  are  carefully  watched  and  broken  up  in  the  fear 
of  unmentionable  evils.  Such  watchfulness  against  vice 
becomes  so  marked  at  times  that  it  actually  suggests  its 
commission. 

Dr.  Reddie,  on  the  contrary,  believes  rather  in  encourag- 
ing affection  for  the  purpose  of  promoting  its  best  and 
purest  development.  He  thinks  that  such  a  spirit  is  the 
surest  protection  against  impurity,  and  that  the  antagonism 
of  competition  is  more  liable  to  lead  to  vice.  The  boys  room 
together  in  small  dormitories,  where  they  are  not  overlooked 
by  teachers,  but  are  left  in  a  spirit  of  honorable  confidence. 
The  personnel  of  each  dormitory  and  the  influence  of  one 
pupil  on  another  are  carefully  considered,  one  of  the  older 
boys  or  prefects  having  a  large  share  of  responsibility.  The 
boys  themselves  discuss  with  Dr.  Reddie  the  make-up  of 
their  dormitory  groups  and  what  habits  of  manner,  conver- 
sation, and  toilet  make  for  character,  health,  and  a  true 
manly  spirit.  In  such  conferences  Dr.  Reddie  is  careful 
not  to  go  beyond  the  point  of  view  of  the  boys  themselves, 
or,  at  most,  such  a  point  of  view,  obtained  from  him,  as  they 
can  successfully  carry  out.  They  thus  feel  that  it  is  an 
[46] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

honor  to  be  trusted,  and  they  help  one  another  to  be  loyal 
to  the  confidence  reposed  in  them.  There  are  rules  posted 
which  are  not  too  formal  or  simple,  some  of  them,  indeed, 
being  esoteric,  if  not  occult.  It  is  evidently  considered  un- 
necessary to  post  a  rule  which  every  honorable  boy  would 
naturally  think  of  and  obey.  The  rules  are  issued  by  the 
head  master,  but  they  are  explained  to  the  boys,  and  are 
accepted  by  them  as  right. 

Some  quotations  from  these  rules,  which  are  beautifully 
printed  by  the  boys  themselves  on  the  school  press,  will 
serve  to  show  the  cooperative  nature  of  this  school. 

WHAT  ARE  THE  EDUCATIVE  MERITS  OF  BATHING? 
A.   The  educative  advantages  of  bathing,  etc.,  are  as  follows  : 

Of  all  possible  physical  exercises,  perhaps  the  most  wholesome 
and  most  valuable,  as  well  as  most  delightful,  are  those  connected 
with  bathing.  No  other  physical  exercise  is  so  completely  a  revel- 
ing in  contact  with  nature. 

Bathing  may,  indeed,  be  considered  a  kind  of  worship  of  nature. 
This  worship  touches  at  once  all  sides  of  our  life,  —  physical,  mental, 
aesthetic,  and  ethical ;  and  if  we  think  of  the  symbolic  meaning  of 
all  natural  things,  we  must  add  also  that  it  feeds  our  spiritual  life.  ' 

Contact  with  water,  together  with  the  feeling  of  affectionate 
mastery  over  it ;  exposure  of  the  naked  body  to  the  pure  air  of  heaven, 
to  the  sun's  heat,  and,  both  in  the  water  and  on  the  banks,  to  the 
sun's  light ;  bringing  the  feet,  while  running  about  on  the  greensward, 
into  living  contact  with  Mother  Earth  ;  all  these  are  sources  of  health 
and  inspiration.  Let  us  not  forget  Antaeus,  son  of  Poseidon  (Water) 
and  Ge  (Earth)  (i.e.  Force,  the  child  of  Motion  and  Matter). 

.  .  .  One  professor  invents  or  rediscovers  the  earth  cure,  and 
will  have  us  walk  with  bare  feet  and  bathe  in  earth  or  mud  ;  another 
discovers,  what  seems  so  obvious,  the  power  of  air  to  heal  or  ward 
off  diseases  of  the  air  passages  and  lungs  ;  another  cures,  by  means 
of  the  sun's  heat  and  light,  maladies  of  the  skin  till  now  considered 
incurable.  But  we  need  not  go  to  Germany  to  find  our  Mother  Nature ; 

[47] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

she  is  as  potent  in  our  own  England  as  ever  she  was  or  is  elsewhere. 
Let  us  lay  aside  unwholesome  clothing,  false  shame,  and  impure 
"  morality,"  and  no  longer  be  afraid  of  worshiping  nature  in  naked 
simplicity. 

Bathing  affords  the  supreme  occasion  for  this  worship,  and  con- 
stitutes, therefore,  one  of  the  chief  elements  in  a  wholesome  school 
life.  We  shall  not  lose,  but  increase  the  benefit  by  properly  under- 
standing it. 

HOW  IS  BATHING,  SWIMMING,  ETC.,  ORGANIZED? 
B.   The  general  organization  is  as  follows  : 

i.  The  bathing,  etc.,  is  under  the  management  of  the  Swimming 
Committee,  at  the  head  of  which  are  the  Captain  and  Vice  Captains 
of  Swimming. 

2.  The  Swimming  Committee  will  have  the  advice  of  one  of  the 
assistant  masters,  selected  for  the  purpose  by  the  head  master,  who 
will  be  called  the  Swimming  Master.  He  will  advise  on  all  matters 
connected  with  bathing,  and  will  decide,  after  consultation  with  the 
Swimming  Captain,  whether,  on  any  particular  day,  when  the  condi- 
tions of  weather,  etc.,  are  unfavorable,  there  shall  be  any  bathing, 
and  if  so,  whether  it  shall  be  compulsory  or  optional ;  at  beginning  of 
term,  however,  and  in  any  change  of  weather,  he  will  take  the  opinion 
of  the  head  master.  He  will  also  act  as  judge  in  all  examinations  for 
promotion.  As  far  as  possible,  however,  the  organization  and  admin- 
istration will  be  left  in  the  hands  of  the  committee.  The  aim  in  view 
is  to  leave  to  the  boys  as  much  freedom  for  self-government  as  is 
compatible  with  efficiency  and  progress  in  the  aquatic  arts,  coupled 
with  safety  to  life. 

Here  follows  a  division  of  the  boys  into  seven  classes 
separated  by  six  swimming  tests,  with  the  prohibitions  for 
those  in  the  lower  classes. 

The  rules  for  haymaking  begin  with  the  general  statement : 

Haymaking,  with  all  its  concomitant  sights,  sounds,  smells,  activi- 
ties, emotions,  and  ideas,  is  not  only  one  of  the  most  delightful  events 
of  the  school  year,  but  is  regarded  at  Abbotsholme  as  having  an 
educational  influence  of  the  highest  value. 
[48] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

WHAT  ARE  THE  EDUCATIVE  INFLUENCES 
OF  HAYMAKING? 

Haymaking,  with  all  the  attendant  circumstances,  exercises  an 
influence  not  unlike  that  of  bathing,  elsewhere  described,  for  it  is  a 
kind  of  bathing  in  air,  warmth,  and  sunshine.  .  .  . 

Haymaking,  unlike  ordinary  games  which  are  practiced  constantly, 
comes  only  once  a  year.  If,  as  here,  it  is  conducted  entirely  by  the 
boys,  under  the  head  master's  direct  supervision,  it  affords  time  and 
opportunity  of  seeing  at  a  glance  how  far  the  boys,  and  particularly 
the  seniors,  show  a  talent  for  unpremeditated  organization. 
Also  it  affords  an  opportunity  for  studying  the  application  of  the 
principle  of  cooperation  to  a  most  delightful  though  useful  occupation, 
and  for  showing  that  leadership  is  as  indispensable  in  peace  as  in 
war,  in  the  serious  and  necessary  work  of  life  as  much  as  in  sports. 
All  these  influences  of  the  harvest  reach  the  climax  when,  at  length, 
the  last  load  is  dragged  up  the  hill  to  the  hay  barn ;  for  then  the 
whole  school,  aided  by  full  orchestra,  marches  in  procession,  singing. 
As  the  joyous  crowd  draws  near  the  barn,  suddenly  in  the  cool  even- 
ing appears,  as  if  by  magic,  the  red  harvest  moon,  rising  with  soft 
splendor  behind  the  dark  wood  on  the  hilltop  beyond ;  and  in  the 
gentle  twilight  every  one  feels  descending  upon  him  a  mysterious 
influence,  as  if  it  were  the  spiritual  benediction  of  the  queen  of  the 
night,  smiling  upon  the  good  work  now  completed. 

Evidently  the  moon  obeys  the  rules  as  well  as  the  boys. 
Happy  boys ! 

As  is  indicated  in  these  short  extracts  from  two  of  the 
dozen  or  so  sets  of  rules,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  cooperation 
in  all  the  outdoor  life^of  the  pupils.  The  same  is  true  of 
their  domestic  life.  A  certain  degree  of  leadership  is  per- 
mitted and  encouraged,  as  in  the  case  of  captains  or  pre- 
fects. The  boys  are  even  urged  to  take  the  initiative  when 
the  head  master  is  not  available,  or  when  it  is  well  under- 
stood that  the  head  master  would  approve.  The  prefects 
especially,  being  tried  boys  who  have  been  in  the  school  for 
[49] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

some  time,  are  delegated  in  this  way.  The  care  of  the  pre- 
fects is  likened  to  that  of  fathers  for  their  children,  and  this 
feature  of  the  school  is  designed  as  a  training  for  such  a 
function.  The  governing  attitude  of  the  prefects,  as  of  the 
rest  of  the  pupils,  is  not,  however,  that  of  invention  or  ex- 
periment ;  they  do  not  create  society  or  social  movements  ; 
they  are  simply  loyal  to  the  state  which  is  established  and 
controlled  by  an  admired  and  well-loved  monarch,  and  feel 
honored  in  carrying  out  his  suggestions  and  commands. 
They  are  captains  and  lieutenants  of  an  authority  which 
neither  they  nor  the  pupils  under  them  consciously  organ- 
ize. While  they  feel  their  membership  in  a  social  whole, 
which  they  recognize  to  be  for  their  own  good,  they  are  not 
directly  responsible  to  the  body  of  citizens,  but  to  the  ruler 
of  the  state. 

The  attitude  of  the  head  master  is  evidently  one  of  great 
care  and  tenderness  for  those  placed  in  his  charge.  Even 
the  rules  are  plainly  designed  in  a  spirit  of  deepest  and  sin- 
cerest  service  on  his  part.  He  has  not  put  forth  automatic 
commands  merely  issued  to  save  trouble,  but  has  tried 
to  interest  his  pupils,  and  the  present  writer  believes,  has 
succeeded,  in  penetrating  imaginatively  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  happy  and  willing  subjects,  and  in  leading  them 
to  become  followers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only. 

The  reality  and  depth  of  the  loyalty  of  the  pupils,  which 
is  not  of  a  superficial,  emotional  type,  is  shown  by  a  number 
of  things,  but  on  a  recent  visit  to  Abbotsholme  one  fact 
struck  me  as  being  of  rather  special  significance.  Although 
many  of  the  boys  are  over  eighteen,  none  of  them  smoke, 
even  surreptitiously.  On  this  latter  point  I  satisfied  myself 
by  cross-examining  one  of  the  old  pupils  who  was  making 
[50] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

a  visit  to  Abbotsholme.  And  yet  Dr.  Reddie  himself  smokes 
quite  openly,  on  the  lawns  and  in  his  library.  There  is  no 
watchfulness  to  prevent  the  boys  from  smoking.  Its  effect 
is  explained  to  them  on  the  proper  scientific  ground  of  the 
maintenance  of  health  in  a  growing  organism,  although,  as 
every  one  knows,  such  knowledge  alone  is  often  ineffective 
with  boys  whose  gang  or  group  approves  the  practice.  .The 
boys  of  this  school  do  not  regard  smoking  as  wrong,  but  as 
wrong  for  them  until  they  have  matured.  There  are,  after 
all,  many  things  besides  smoking,  like  marriage,  the  wear- 
ing of  long  trousers,  occasional  late  hours,  or  the  spending 
of  large  sums  of  money,  which  are  suitable  for  one  age  or 
station  and  not  for  another.  To  be  made  to  recognize  this, 
and  yet  to  be  able  to  do  the  best  that  one's  own  position 
requires,  indicates  a  higher  self-control  and  a  stronger  char- 
acter than  to  be  brought  up  to  think  that  every  detail  in  a 
leader  may  be  indiscriminately  copied.  In  the  former  case 
there  is  indeed  a  true  understanding  of  the  reality  which 
it  is  essential  to  imitate,  and  a  wholesome  assumption  that 
boys  are  really  more  like  men  than  monkeys. 

It  is  during  the  part  of  the  school  life  which  lies  outside 
the  class  room  that  the  working  of  the  honor  spirit  is  most 
apparent.  Not  that  the  discipline  of  the  classes  is  some- 
thing different.  The  pupils  may  safely  be  left  alone.  They 
know  it  to  be  their  duty  to  pay  respectful  attention  to  their 
teachers  and  to  carry  out  their  wishes.  The  teaching,  too, 
is  made  as  practical  as  possible.  Modern  languages  are 
begun  before  the  classics,  and  pupils  are  made  to  identify 
themselves  as  much  as  possible  with  Frenchmen  or  Ger- 
mans. Boys  perform  actions,  like  taking  off  their  shoes,  walk- 
ing, making  a  bow,  and  so  on,  and  other  boys  describe  these 
[Si] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

actions  in  the  foreign  language.  The  maps  used  are  made, 
when  possible,  in  the  countries  which  they  describe.  Visits 
to  the  Continent  are  made  by  the  pupils  under  the  care  of 
teachers.  When  the  classics  are  studied  the  boys  become 
Romans  and  Greeks,  and  often  carry  out  this  spirit  in  their 
games.  Science  is  studied  in  close  contact  with  nature. 
Bees  are  kept,  trees  are  cut  and  measured,  houses  are  built, 
harvests  are  garnered.  The  last  load  of  hay  is  usually  ac- 
companied by  a  festal  procession,  led  by  violins  and  choris- 
ters. The  regular  time  schedule  of  the  school, from  6. 30  A.M. 
to  10  P.M.,  is  scientifically  arranged,  and  with  the  beautiful 
chapel  exercises  twice  during  the  day,  its  steady  unfolding 
gives  a  feeling  of  thorough  artistic  enjoyment  to  the  visitor. 
All  of  this  beauty,  healthfulness,  order,  and  regularity  flow 
directly  from  the  fertile  brain  and  loving  heart  of  the  mon- 
arch of  the  state. 

If  King  George  had  been  half  as  good  and  clever,  Ameri- 
cans never  would  have  revolted.  Even  limited  monarchies 
are  the  result  of  the  mistakes  or  defects  of  the  monarchs. 
Such  a  school  as  Abbotsholme  fulfills  its  mission  and  affords 
an  admirable  training  for  the  directing  classes  of  a  monarchy 
even  as  tolerant  as  that  of  England.  The  government  of 
India  alone  would  doubtless  profitably  absorb  as  many  of 
such  pupils  as  could  be  produced. 

There  is,  as  already  said,  a  very  important  social  bond 
and  a  powerful  appeal  to  the  social  instinct  in  being  trusted 
and  honored  by  a  superior.  In  its  earliest  form  we  find  it 
at  work  wherever  the  clan  has  developed  to  the  stage 
requiring  a  chieftain.  The  monarch,  indeed,  is  a  chieftain 
carried  to  the  nth  power.  The  Jacobin  Loyalists  of  Eng- 
land show  how  important,  even  in  recent  times,  is  the  claim 
[52] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

of  such  a  functionary.  Yet  a  monarchy  never  could  have 
existed  on  a  large  scale,  if  it  had  not  effectively  extended 
itself  to  the  protection  of  interests  which  grew  up  independ- 
ently of  the  monarch  himself.  There  must  be  possible  under 
such  a  government  a  large  amount  of  organized  variety, 
much  more  than  the  monarch  is  capable  of  thinking  of. 
When  not  absolute,  such  a  monarchy  is  really  a  disguised 
democracy.  The  old  forms  have  been  retained,  but  a  new 
life  has  partly  filled  the  mold.  The  loyalty  of  the  citizens 
of  England  to  their  king  is  only  apparent  when  challenged. 
Most  of  them  are  not  thinking  of  conducting  their  lives 
after  his  model  or  as  he  would  wish  to  have  them.  The 
directing  classes  alone  may  be  appreciably  influenced  by 
such  motives.  To  find  a  prototype  for  a  school  monarchy 
like  Abbotsholme,  we  should  need  to  go  much  further 
back  than  the  present  condition  of  England.  King  Arthur 
and  his  court,  or  the  early  kings  of  Greece  and  Rome,  may 
possibly  have  furnished  such  an  example,  although  the 
modern  instance,  through  its  modern  ruler,  is  full  of  the 
impress  of  modern  times. 

It  is  evident  that  the  pupils  of  such  a  school  are  getting 
a  great  deal  out  of  it,  and  this  of  an  immediate  social  char- 
acter. The  school  is  a  real  organism.  The  habits  of  life, 
moreover,  are  of  a  kind  calculated  to  reproduce  themselves. 
Tastes  and  interests,  the  habit  of  loyalty  and  the  love  of 
honor  acquired  and  developed  here,  are  likely  to  be  con- 
tinued after  the  pupil  goes  away.  The  school  is  tested  in 
this  respect  by  the  parents,  and  its  maintenance  and  growth 
depend  directly  on  their  approval.  In  the  school  itself  the 
head  master  is  also  constantly  observing  and  testing  the 
pupils  as  to  their  health,  their  tone  and  bearing,  their 
[53] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

courage  and  fidelity  in  carrying  out  the  spirit  of  the 
institution. 

Having  admitted  so  much  in  favor  of  an  almost  ideal 
school  monarchy,  it  may  be  feared  that  there  can  be  little 
left  to  say  in  behalf  of  democracy,  and  yet  in  America  we 
are  committed  to  democratic  government,  and  unless  the 
spirit  of  democracy  appears  in  the  school,  it  must  in  some 
essential  way  be  failing  in  its  trust. 

In  the  first  place,  however,  we  ought  to  make  the  claim 
for  the  ideal  American  school  that  all  the  best  virtues  of 
a  monarchy  should  be  retained  in  a  democracy,  which, 
unless  it  is  a  higher  development  of  a  monarchy,  has  no 
reason  for  its  existence.  The  pupils  ougnt  to  have  the 
experiences  of  loyalty  to  those  above  them.  They  should 
wish  to  be  honored  and  trusted  by  them,  and  they  should 
feel  the  social  satisfaction  and  sense  of  responsibility  which 
comes  from  such  confidence.  Democracy  does  not  mean 
that  there  should  be  no  superior  in  authority  or  in  station. 
Even  forcible  compulsion  and  implicit  obedience  are  fre- 
quently necessary  in  a  good  democracy. 

What  democracy  means  is  a  fair  chance  for  the  develop- 
ment of  all  the  opportunities  there  are.  It  means  that  the 
blessings  of  life  shall  not  flow  constantly  from  one  source, 
and  that  not  one  and  his  lieutenants,  or  even  a  few,  shall 
rule  continuously,  but  that  every  citizen  shall  have  an 
opportunity  of  dispensing  honor  for  social  service  well  per- 
formed, and  of  removing  those  who  fail  in  this  respect.  It 
means  that  the  virtues  and  opportunities  of  the  best  monarch 
may  become  the  virtues  and  opportunities  of  every  citizen 
who  is  capable  of  them.  Going  further  than  the  easier  love 
and  admiration  that  looks  upward  for  guidance,  it  must  also 
[54] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

develop  to  the  highest  degree  the  care  and  appreciation 
which  looks  downward  or  to  those  on  a  similar  level. 

Not  only  the  power  of  directing  one's  self  under  the  eye 
of  a  superior,  but  the  power  to  create  plans  and  direct 
others  should  be  widespread  in  a  democratic  state.  As  gen- 
eral statements  these  truths  are  trite  and  uninteresting.  It 
is  in  the  concrete  facts  which  they  represent  that  true  prob- 
lems arise.  Applied  to  the  school,  it  may  well  be  asked  if 
the  exhibition  of  the  character  of  a  noble  monarch  is  not 
a  great  stimulus,  not  merely  to  loyalty  but  to  initiative. 
This  is  undoubtedly  true.  A  case  in  point  may  be  cited 
from  Abbotsholme  itself.  A  boy,  when  asked  what  he 
would  like  to  be,  replied  that  he  should  like  to  be  a 
teacher.  This  is  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Reddie  as  one  of  the 
best  recommendations  of  the  school,  and  it  certainly  is. 
But  what  opportunity  is  there  under  a  monarchy,  not  per- 
haps for  the  practice  of  all  the  socially  creative  powers 
necessary  for  such  a  teacher  as  the  head  master  of  Abbots- 
holme,  but  for  any  considerable  part  of  them  ?  Mere  lieu- 
tenancy, however  trusted,  cannot  afford  such  a  role.  The 
boy  will  be  forced  to  remain,  so  far  as  the  highest  appreciable 
features  of  his  model  are  concerned,  in  a  passive  attitude, 
and  await  some  future  time  before  he  can  attempt  the 
active  realization  of  his  ideal.  When  he  finally  comes  to 
it,  he  may  discover,  or  others  for  him,  that  his  socially 
active  and  inventive  powers  are  weak  and  undeveloped, 
and  that  he  is  forced  to  become  a  mere  imitator  of  lower 
qualities  than  those  which  were  controllingly  operative 
in  the  original.  There  is  thus  some  loss  in  the  trans- 
mission of  life,  to  say  nothing  of  the  liberation  of  new 
and  undreamed-of  powers. 

[55] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

No  one  will  be  so  shortsighted  as  to  think  that  a  boy 
can  suddenly  be  placed  in  the  position  of  a  teacher  or  the 
head  master  of  a  school,  or  that  he  could  even  act  suitably 
as  a  substitute  or  monitor.  The  boy  himself,  if  he  possesses 
common  sense  and  does  not  simply  wish  to  play,  would  be 
among  the  first  to  see  the  futility  of  such  a  step.  What 
the  boy  really  means  when  he  says  he  should  like  to  be  a 
teacher  is  only  to  be  discovered  by  applying  the  test  of 
action.  His  answer  might  have  been  flattery,  or,  what  is 
more  likely,  it  might  have  been  an  expression  of  that  loose 
dreaming,  which,  as  Mommsen  in  his  study  of  Caesar  shows, 
makes  the  mere  idealogue  rather  than  the  practical  idealist. 
Not  that  one  need  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  kill  out  all  immedi- 
ately unrealizable  dreams,  but  that  it  is  necessary  to  give 
practice  at  all  times  in  life  in  the  working  out  of  dreams 
that  can,  within  a  reasonable  time  and  with  some  degree 
of  probability,  be  made  to  come  true.  But  the  progressive 
realization  of  a  dream  or  ideal  is  the  natural  means  of  its 
control  and  the  natural  source  of  its  sane  development. 

The  boy's  notion  of  becoming  a  teacher,  if  offered  as  a 
real  plan,  could  be  met  with  inquiry  so  as  to  get  at  the 
widest  range  of  his  point  of  view.  The  full  vision  of  his 
model  is,  of  course,  not  possible  for  him.  What  are  the 
aspects,  however,  which  have  appealed  to  him  ?  From  this 
as  a  basis,  it  would  be  necessary  to  add  some  features  of 
self-revelation  on  the  master's  part,  which  could  be  under- 
stood. We  might  imagine  him  saying :  w  What  have  I,  as  a 
teacher,  to  do  ?  I  must  say,  must  I  not,  what  the  boys  are 
to  do,  and  think  of  such  things  as  are  good  for  them,  so 
that  they  will  do  them  willingly  and  cheerfully.  Can  you 
get  any  boys  to  do  what  you  suggest  and  keep  them  at  it 
[56] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  MONARCHY 

until  the  purpose  is  accomplished  ?  What  would  these 
things  be  ?  Would  they  be  worth  while  ?  How  could  you 
attract  these  boys  ?  What  would  be  the  difficulties  in  the 
way?"  The  duties  of  scholarship  and  the  necessity  for 
keeping  up  his  school  work  are  so  obvious  that  it  would 
hardly  be  necessary  to  emphasize  them.  These  duties 
were  very  likely  not  the  source  of  this  boy's  desire  to 
teach.  It  was  probably  something  more  vital  than  mere 
learning  that  attracted  him. 

Propositions  like  these,  however,  go  considerably  beyond 
the  monarchical  state  even  when  this  conceals,  as  at  Abbots- 
holme,  much  that  is  democratic  in  tendency.    They  may  be 
judged  unpractical  and  visionary,  but  it  is  at  least  clear  that 
they  are  of  the  very  essence  of  democracy.    The  carry- 
ing out  of  great  varieties  of  such  schemes,  properly  organ- 
ized and  dovetailed  into  each  other,  would  seem  likely  to 
give  us  a  school  not  for  the  directing  classes  or  the  directed 
masses,  but  one  capable  of  training  the  masses  to  direct 
themselves.    This  is  not  accomplished  when,  as  in  an  ideal 
monarchy,  each  boy  controls  himself,  either  from  mere  self- 
respect  or  for  the  love  and  honor  which  he  feels  flowing  to 
him  from  a  superior.    For  a  democracy  it  is  also  necessary 
that  a  pupil  should  get  an  opportunity  to  direct  others,  to 
change  and  mold  their  opinions,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
submit  himself   as  a  leader  to  their   uncoerced  approval. 
This  means  a  social   situation  which  would  call  for  and 
develop  a  higher  and  broader  kind  of  control  than  that 
which  is  mainly  confined  to  self,  and  it  would  use  resources 
and  expansions  of  the  social  instinct  which  are  character- 
istic of  the  present  condition  of  civilization. 
REFERENCE.   1.  Jeremiah  Jenks,  Citizenship  and  the  Schools,  p.  32. 
[57] 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

In  order  to  show  what  difficulties  underlie  the  realization 
of  such  a  conception  as  that  suggested  in  the  last  chapter, 
and  to  trace  the  active  working  of  the  democratic  spirit  as  it 
appears  in  the  internal  organization  of  some  of  our  schools, 
let  us  turn  our  attention  to  some  contemporary  examples. 

The  George  Junior  Republic  of  Freeville,  N.Y.,  is  an 
instance  of  a  school  which  is  consciously  organized  on  a 
social  basis.  That  it  performs  a  great  social  service  to 
the  community  cannot  be  doubted.  It  has  awakened  inter- 
est in  hundreds  of  people  who  have  come  from  all  over  the 
country  to  study  it,  it  is  supported  by  private  beneficence, 
and  it  has  turned  out,  since  its  foundation  in  1895,  a  large 
number  of  boys  and  girls  who  have  been  reclaimed  from 
vice  and  set  on  the  way  to  become  self-supporting  citizens. 

Published  accounts  of  the  Republic  have  not  been  crit- 
ical, and  have  always  been  short.  When  passing  beyond  a 
description  of  the  mere  appearance  of  facts,  they  have  been 
exceedingly  laudatory.  The  complaints  that  have  been 
raised  have  had  but  a  newspaper  basis  and  an  ephemeral 
newspaper  circulation,  and  have  been  satisfactorily  disproved 
by  the  investigation  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Cruelty  to  Children  (i). 

In  view  of  its  importance  there  is  greatly  needed  at 
present  a  larger  and  more  complete  study  of  the  institution. 
[58] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

With  such  material  as  is  at  hand,  however,  and  with  per- 
sonal reports  obtained  from  visitors  and  some  conversation 
with  Mr.  George  himself,  the  founder  of  the  Republic,  the 
present  writer  hopes  to  be  able  to  convey  an  understand- 
ing of  the  essential  features  of  the  school. 

"The  territory  of  the  Republic,"  says  Dr.  William  I. 
Hull  (2),  "is  even  smaller  than  that  of  Marino,  being  only 
forty-eight  acres  in  extent,  and  its  buildings  are  few  and 
simple.  In  the  winter  its  inhabitants  are  only  forty-four  in 
number,  twenty-seven  boys  and  seventeen  girls  ;  and  in  the 
summer,  when  the  tide  of  immigration  rolls  in,  the  popula- 
tion increases  to  two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  tents  are 
erected  to  supplement  the  few  simple  buildings."  The  boys 
and  girls  in  attendance,  all  from  twelve  years  of  age  up, 
are  for  the  most  part  drawn  from  circumstances  far  from 
favorable.  Of  thirty-one  members  in  the  roster  for  one  of 
the  earlier  years,  all  were  described  as  less  than  promis- 
ing. Characterizations  run  as  follows  :  arrested  for  crime  ; 
a  young  tough  ;  an  all-round  disagreeable  character ;  way- 
ward young  girl  from  bad  home ;  thief  and  runaway ; 
degenerate  (now  in  insane  asylum) ;  typical  street  Arab ; 
wild,  arrested  for  truancy  ;  a  rowdy  girl ;  wild  street  boy, 
leader  of  a  gang.  With  the  exception  of  the  one  in  the 
asylum,  all  of  these  thirty-one  have  for  the  most  part 
decidedly  improved.  Some  of  them  are  in  college,  others 
in  business  or  in  responsible  positions  (Report  of  Bureau  of 
Labor  and  Charities,  Syracuse,  N.Y.).  There  is  thus  an 
unfortunate  selection  of  the  pupils,  whether  voluntary  or 
not,  which  must  be  constantly  borne  in  mind  by  the  inves- 
tigator. The  pupils,  moreover,  are  not  free  to  leave,  nor 
in  many  cases  are  the  parents  free  to  take  them  away. 
[59] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The  social  features  of  the  school  which  strike  the  visitor 
most  forcibly  are  its  industrial  and  economic  basis  and  the 
degree  to  which  the  pupils  exert  the  strong  arm  of  coercion 
in  carrying  out  the  laws.  These  laws  are  sometimes  said 
to  be  made  by  the  children  themselves,  and  a  part  of  them 
undoubtedly  are ;  but  the  original  constitution  was  given 
to  them  by  Mr.  George,  and  other  measures  have  also  been 
introduced  by  him.  The  constitution  imitates  as  closely  as 
possible  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  There  is  a 
Congress,  consisting  of  a  Senate  and  House  of  Represen- 
tatives, which  "has  the  power  of  passing  laws  in  harmony 
with  the  United  States  Constitution  and  the  laws  of  New 
York  State"  (3).  Mr.  George  at  first  was  the  president  of 
the  Republic  and  had  a  veto  power  over  its  laws,  "  but  now 
there  is  a  boy  president,  whose  veto  can  be  set  aside  only 
by  a  two-thirds'  vote  of  the  Congress."  There  are  courts, 
judges,  guards,  a  jail,  and  a  police  force,  but  without  the 
industrial  and  economic  basis  these  would  be  of  much 
smaller  importance  than  they  are.  The  fundamental  con- 
dition of  the  organization  is  that  the  pupils  work  for  their 
living.  The  motto  of  the  Republic  is,  Nothing  without 
labor.  In  proportion  to  the  work  they  do,  wages  are  paid 
them  in  imitation  money,  which  is  valid  only  within  the 
Republic.  The  labor  day  is  from  eight  thirty  to  twelve, 
and  the  wage  from  fifty  to  seventy-five  cents  per  day.  No 
one  need  go  unprovided  with  work.  It  is  the  part  of  the 
superintendent,  Mr.  George,  to  give  or  make  work  for  every 
applicant,  whether  on  the  land  or  in  the  care  of  cattle, 
ditching,  leveling,  chopping,  sweeping,  bed  making,  cook- 
ing, waiting  on  table,  etc.  (4).  Work  is  outlined  and  con- 
trolled by  the  school  state.  It  is,  however,  sublet  to 
[60] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

individuals,  who  can  hire  other  workmen.  No  one,  of  course, 
can  become  a  contractor  without  sufficient  capital.  A  pre- 
mium is  thus  placed  on  thrift. 

A  citizen  who  can  afford  it  may  live  in  very  comfortable 
style.  "  The  hotels,  as  they  are  called,  are  of  three  grades, 
from  the  Hotel  Waldorf,  on  the  second  floor  of  the  main 
building,  where  the  millionaires  sleep,  and  pay  twenty-five 
cents  a  night  for  the  privilege  of  having  a  tastily  furnished 
room  to  themselves,  to  the  lowest  class  of  lodgings  in  the 
attic,  where  the  unsuccessful  business  men  or  the  idlers 
must  take  up  their  quarters  at  ten  cents  a  night.  If  the 
citizen  has  no  money  to  pay  for  lodgings,  he  must  pass  the 
night  in  the  station  house,  and  in  the  morning  is  arrested 
for  vagrancy  and  made  to  work  out  the  fine  imposed." 
"The  restaurants  also  are  let  to  contractors,  and  their 
prices  vary  from  fifteen  cents  to  twenty-five  cents  a  meal." 
"  In  addition  to  the  contracts  let  by  the  government,  other 
industries  have  sprung  up.  The  boys  become  carpenters ; 
retail  venders  of  fruit,  candies,  and  other  commodities 
dear  to  children's  hearts ;  public  officials ;  lawyers  ;  and 
skilled  laborers  of  various  kinds.  The  girls  turn  to  sewing, 
clothes  patching,  stocking  darning,  and  housework."  Fines 
imposed  by  the  court  thus  cut  into  the  necessary  means  of 
a  good  livelihood.  Hunger  or  personal  comfort,  if  no  higher 
motives,  tend  to  enforce  the  laws. 

In  the  winter  time,  especially  when  work  is  scarce,  some 
of  the  older  boys  are  selected  to  act  as  "schoolmasters." 
They  prepare  questions  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  ferreted  out 
from  histories,  geographies,  encyclopedias,  etc.  These  ques- 
tions are  distributed  and  the  successful  answers  paid  for. 
The  usual  expenses  of  the  citizen  are  met  with  the  money 
[61] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

thus  obtained,  —  certainly  a  very  extraordinary  departure 
from  the  seemingly  industrial  foundation  of  the  school. 

Apart  from  the  labor  and  book  learning,  there  are  hours 
for  play  and  recreation.  Christian  influences  are  constantly 
brought  to  bear,  and  everything  possible  is  done  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  George  to  establish  the  friendly  relations  of  a 
home.  Being  divested  of  the  role  of  a  constantly  active 
disciplinarian,  the  superintendent  is  more  free  to  proffer 
advice  and  counsel,  which  may  or  may  not  be  taken,  as  the 
citizen  decides. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  back  of  all  the  pupil  machinery 
of  government  stands  Mr.  George.  As  the  report  of  the 
Labor  and  Charities  Commission  says,  "  It  is  to  be  under- 
stood that  it  is  the  policy  of  the  management  to  advise 
sparingly  and  to  command  only  when  necessity  requires." 
Formerly  the  industry  on  the  farm  was  carried  on  by  in- 
dustrial classes,  "the  citizens  being  enrolled  in  these,  and 
paid  according  to  the  number  of  hours  spent  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  technical  knowledge.  .  .  .  The  class  system  was 
done  away  with  and  the  contract  system  substituted  in 
accordance  with  Mr.  George's  aim  to  introduce  into  the 
Republic  as  many  of  the  conditions  of  ordinary  life  as 
possible.  .  .  .  An  inspector  for  hotels  is  employed  by  the 
government  and  makes  his  rounds  daily,  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  George,  who  fines  the  inspector  if  he  fails  to  discover 
any  faults  of  omission  or  commission."  As  Mr.  Hull  goes 
on  to  say  :  "  If  we  are  consistent  believers  in  the  American 
political  theory,  we  must  admit  that  the  machinery  adopted 
by  the  founder  of  the  George  Junior  Republic  for  carrying 
on  its  work  is  the  best  which  the  mind  of  man  has  devel- 
oped. But  mere  machinery  is  useless  without  a  motive  force, 
[62] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

and  this  motive  force  is  largely  supplied  by  the  clever  brain 
and  kindly  heart  of  Mr.  George  "  (5). 

We  must,  however,  avoid  being  deceived  by  mere 
machinery.  It  is  the  spirit  and  not  the  letter  which 
maketh  alive.  In  the  adult  state  there  may  be  machinery 
which  is  useless  or  even  pernicious,  but,  apart  from  vicious 
intention,  that  is  usually  because  it  has  been  useful  at 
some  previous  time.  Real  law  and  real  government  in 
real  communities  spring  up  to  protect  real  interests  which 
could  not  advance  without  their  guardianship.  Effective 
voting  is  not  simply  a  registration  of  opinion ;  it  is  a 
registration  of  an  opinion  about  a  vital  issue.  And  just 
because  of  this,  it  is  more  than  the  registration  of  an 
opinion  ;  it  is  the  expression  of  the  amount  of  force  in 
fighting  units  which  would  be  available,  if  necessary,  to 
back  up  this  opinion.  Voting  came  in  during  the  course 
of  history  as  a  substitute  for  a  show  of  arms.  The  inven- 
tion of  gunpowder,  which  put  the  means  of  defense  into 
the  hands  of  masses  of  men,  was  a  necessary  prerequisite 
for  a  wide  diffusion  of  the  suffrage.  The  mere  right  to 
vote  does  not  characterize  a  citizen  or  a  state,  although 
the  lack  of  it  sometimes  does.  In  clan  life  a  new  band 
was  often  formed  when  some  one  arose,  proposed  a  proj- 
ect, —  a  marauding  expedition,  perhaps,  —  and  asked  for 
followers.  Those  who  elected  to  go  with  him,  by  that 
act  also  elected  him  as  chief,  an  office  he  held  only  as 
long  as  his  success  was  approved  by  a  sufficiently  strong 
majority.  When  the  Afghans  in  the  eighteenth  century 
captured  Ispahan  and  destroyed  most  of  the  citizens,  this 
barbarian  host,  in  their  rude,  indeliberative  way,  exercised 
a  suffrage  among  themselves. 

[63] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Government  means  force  and  the  power  to  coerce  the 
minority.  If  it  did  not  mean  this,  but  consisted  of  a  mere 
registration  of  opinion,  the  aims  of  the  philosophical  an- 
archists would  be  reached,  and  all  of  our  apparatus  of 
courts,  jails,  mayors,  congressmen,  commissioner  of  police, 
etc.,  would  be  sloughed  off  as  an  expensive  luxury.  When 
voting  does  not  represent  fighting  force  and  its  intelligent 
organization,  it  becomes  a  farce  and  is  easily  overridden. 
This  is  evidently  the  condition  of  affairs  in  the  negro  belt 
of  the  southern  states.  When  society  can  get  a  more 
direct  registration  of  its  fighting  ability  by  counting  the 
votes  of  women,  or  can  estimate  with  more  delicacy  and 
accuracy  the  number  of  fighting  units  by  employing  women 
in  responsible  governmental  positions,  it  will  be  forced,  in 
order  to  survive,  to  extend  to  them  the  suffrage  and  to  call 
upon  them  to  share  in  executive  government.  This  is,  of 
course,  not  unreasonable  and  not  an  impossibility,  but 
mainly  because  of  the  influence  of  women  over  men,  — 
which,  however,  they  already  exert, — and  not  because  it 
is  likely  that  women  will  ever  make  good  soldiers.  Voting 
is  not  for  individuals,  but  for  society. 

The  real  characteristics  of  a  citizen  in  a  civilized  com- 
munity are  indicated  much  more  truly  by  the  votes  that 
he  influences  than  by  the  single  one  that  he  casts,  but 
even  this  function  is  not  the  real  measure  of  his  value  to 
society.  The  forcible  protection  which  government  exer- 
cises is  always  a  means  to  an  end.  This  end  consists  in 
the  interests,  the  plans,  the  schemes,  the  desires  and  ambi- 
tions, the  many-sided  life  of  civilization  which  springs  up 
in  the  hearts  of  all  mankind.  Where  these  are  of  such 
a  nature  as  to  run  counter  to  the  social  good,  coercion  is 
[64] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  'ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

necessary  to  restrain  or  destroy  them.  When,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  exist  but  in  a  weak  and  feeble  condition,  and 
if  they  are  recognized  as  of  value  to  society,  it  is  equally 
necessary  to  supply  them  with  the  means  of  growth.  Force, 
however,  can  never  make  plans  grow  where  there  are  no 
plans  in  mind.  People  cannot  be  made  good  by  compul- 
sion. Just  sufficient  force  to  fulfill  these  two  functions  of 
protection  and  of  sustenance  (not  necessarily  of  the  weak, 
but  of  the  socially  desirable)  is  all  that  is  required.  An 
excess  is  wasteful. 

In  early  societies  everybody  was  a  policeman,  and  blood 
revenge  was  the  duty  of  each,  not  simply  for  his  own  sake, 
but  in  obedience  to  the  social  instincts  of  all.  To-day  we 
economize  these  executive  powers  by  delegating  them  to 
as  few  as  possible,  and  thus  secure  for  the  rest  freedom  to 
engage  in  other  concerns.  If  there  are  interests  and  plans 
of  a  social  value,  which  even  the  weakest  member  of  society 
entertains,  this  delegated  force  should  be  at  his  disposal, 
to  protect  him  from  imposition  and  to  help  him  in  his 
ambition.  If  women,  for  example,  are  unable  to  carry  out 
socially  valuable  schemes  of  life  because  coercive  force 
stands  in  their  way,  fails  to  protect  them,  or  refuses  to 
help  them,  the  government  as  it  exists  is  seriously  faulty 
and  unjust.  Whenever  the  strong  arm  of  compulsion  is  re- 
quired, men  will  be  necessary  to  carry  it  out.  Executive 
government  is,  after  all,  nothing  but  a  policeman  on  a 
larger  scale. 

The  same  conditions  apply,  with  even  more  cogency,  to 

children.    The  exercise  of  physical  compulsion  or  constraint 

can  never  spring  from  them  so  long  as  they  are  part  of  a 

civilized  community ;  nor  can  it  ever  be  rightly  exercised 

[65] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

by  them  except  in  so  far  as  they  act  as  delegates  or  mes- 
sengers of  a  power  which  they  do  not  help  to  create.  Force, 
however,  by  virtue  of  the  social  life  within  us,  is  bound  to 
be  exerted  on  their  behalf.  Their  best  interests  and  desires 
should  be  fostered  and  protected  and  their  best  develop- 
ment guaranteed.  In  so  far  as  the  coercive  aspects  of  life 
in  the  George  Junior  Republic  are  concerned,  it  is  an  illu- 
sion to  suppose  that  it  has  evolved  either  a  government  of 
the  people  or  by  them.  All  the  machinery  of  force  which 
characterizes  the  school,  down  to  the  guns  (unloaded,  I 
hope)  which  the  guards  carry, — as  shown  in  photographs, 
—  is  superfluous  and  unnecessary.  A  good  deal  of  it  is, 
of  course,  a  play  which  is  educative  in  a  certain  sense  ;  that 
is,  the  children  get  a  dramatized  presentation,  in  which  they 
are  themselves  the  actors,  of  the  way  in  which  governments 
are  run.  A  play,  however,  necessarily  leaves  out  that  partic- 
ular factor  which  makes  the  interest  real.  It  is  Mr.  George, 
and  the  authority  vested  in  him  by  the  adult  state,  that  is 
the  real  force  back  of  all  the  children's  laws.  These  must 
be,  in  reality,  verified  by  him  in  order  to  be  valid. 

The  same  thing  is  true,  at  the  bottom,  of  the  industrial 
and  economic  features.  The  Republic  does  not  maintain 
itself,  and  there  is  only  that  discretion  in  pecuniary  matters 
that  is  permitted  by  the  superintendent.  If  boys  go  in  rags 
or  live  poorly,  that  is  approved  by  him  as  an  instructive 
experience. 

Does  this  mean  that  there  is  no  social  self-organization 
on  the  part  of  the  pupils?  Not  at  all.  Mr.  George,  per- 
haps unnecessarily,  masks  the  flow  of  honor  from  him  to 
the  pupils,  and  substitutes  for  this  a  machinery  of  offices 
and  laws ;  but  in  doing  this,  does  he  prevent  the  children 
[66] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  —  THE  REPUBLIC 

from  getting  out  of  their  experience  all  that  is  possible  for 
them  in  the  understanding  and  appreciation  of  a  superior  ? 
That  the  laws  do  not  prevent  the  children  from  feeling  and 
knowing  that  Mr.  George  is  the  real  mainstay,  the  real  ruler, 
can  hardly  be  doubted.  But  how  is  this  controlling  will  to 
be  approached  ?  Not  by  wheedling,  not  by  personal  service, 
smiles,  or  conformity  to  a  few  arbitrary  rules  of  conduct. 
This  will  chooses  to  be  approached,  so  far  as  the  funda- 
mental necessities  of  food,  clothing,  and  shelter  are  con- 
cerned, in  one  way,  and  that  by  the  skill  with  which  each 
individual  shows  he  can  play  the  game  of  the  Republic. 

These  boys  are  surely  sharp  enough  to  find  out  what 
their  work  means.  Do  they  think  that  they  are  working 
for  Mr.  George,  and  that  he,  perhaps,  is  making  his  own 
living  from  the  overplus  of  their  efforts  ?  If  this  were 
so,  it  would  suddenly  reduce  the  Republic  to  an  economic 
reality.  The  children,  at  least  the  intelligent  ones  who 
would  act  as  leaders,  probably  know  well  enough  that 
they  are  getting  a  greater  return  for  their  labor  than 
they  would  elsewhere,  and  that  the  institution  is  mainly 
supported  by  private  subscriptions,  which  Mr.  George 
alone  is  able  to  obtain.  What  they  must  realize  at  the 
bottom  is  Mr.  George's  fatherliness,  which  is  not  an 
economic  condition  to  them.  His  favor,  however,  in  mat- 
ters economic,  is  bestowed  not  on  individual  boys  as  he 
may  think  they  need  it,  but  on  the  Republic  as  a  whole. 
The  honors  and  the  honorable  positions  that  are  dispensed 
are  created  by  Mr.  George,  but  the  least  of  these  may  be 
competed  for  by  all  the  children  in  the  Republic. 

The  honorable  position  at  the  lowest  end  of  the  scale  is 
that  of  a  poorly  paid  laborer.  Here  there  is  no  competition, 
[67] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

as  there  is  in  the  real  world,  since  the  superintendent  finds 
work  for  all.  The  more  highly  paid  are  more  honored  by 
their  comrades,  and  of  course  by  Mr.  George  also.  At  times 
it  seems  as  if  the  Republic  expected  pure  self-interest,  apart 
from  social  instinct  and  the  love  of  being  honored  and  looked 
up  to  by  others,  to  inspire  the  workers  to  thrift  and  ambition. 
But  these  former  motives  can  hardly  be  the  controlling  ones, 
and  if  they  were,  such  a  condition  would  afford  the  gravest 
ground  for  complaint  on  the  part  of  the  public  at  large. 

One  of  the  most  desirable  positions  is  that  of  police- 
man. Unfortunately  the  street  experiences  of  a  New  York 
boy  make  him  regard  the  policeman  as  about  the  summit 
of  human  greatness.  But  there  are  evidently  other  more 
practical  reasons  at  work.  A  policeman  in  the  Junior  Re- 
public gets  pay,  and  during  the  time  he  is  on  duty  he 
does  no  manual  labor.  How  many  policemen  does  the 
Republic  need  ?  How  is  this  decided  ?  If  the  mere  selec- 
tion, but  not  the  creation,  of  the  policeman  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  children,  it  would  seem  natural  for  them  to  have  as 
many  policemen  as  possible.  In  adult  society,  on  the  con- 
trary, we  have  as  few  as  possible,  since  their  maintenance 
is  a  tax  on  the  community.  If  food  obtained  by  individuals 
in  the  Junior  Republic  depended  on  the  combined  efforts 
of  all,  instead  of  on  the  individual  efforts  of  each,  it  would 
be  a  more  thoroughly  social  institution  than  it  is.  If  this 
were  so,  it  might  possibly  be  seen  by  the  children  that 
since  they  are  but  few  in  number  they  could  do  very  well 
without  special  policemen,  and  perhaps  without  their  ex- 
travagant legal  paraphernalia  also. 

It  is  not,  however,  certain  that  they  would  see  this  of 
themselves.  The  connection  between  policemen's  support 
[68] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

and  the  economic  basis  might  be  remote  enough  so  that 
in  gratifying  their  immediate  desires,  including  their  social 
instinct,  without  intelligent  reflection,  they  would  at  least 
lower  greatly  the  earning  power  of  the  community.  The 
negro  republic  of  Haiti  has  degenerated  economically, 
partly  because  positions  in  the  army  or  government 
were  multiplied  far  beyond  their  serviceableness  to  so- 
ciety. Meanwhile  the  means  of  production,  roads,  schools, 
etc.,  were  being  starved  because  there  was  not  foresight 
enough  to  raise  and  apply  taxes  for  their,  proper  mainte- 
nance. Possibly  American  boys  and  girls  might  not  make 
such  a  mistake,  and  the  small  number  in  the  Junior  Re- 
public would  make  both  social  oversight  and  foresight 
more  practicable.  But  if  they  failed  to  see  so  widely  or 
so  far,  surely  they  should  have  the  advice  of  the  superin- 
tendent, based  on  exact  estimation  and  calculation.  Mr. 
George  at  present  uses  his  influence  to  advise  individuals. 
Why  should  the  little  society  as  a  whole  not  receive  the 
best  advice,  —  I  do  not  mean  commands,  —  instead  of  be- 
ing allowed  to  discover  things  by  groping  in  the  dark  ?  The 
trouble  is,  of  course,  —  in  answer  to  this,  —  that  the  little 
society  as  a  whole  does  very  little  experimenting.  Their 
constitution  is  already  laid  down  and  their  laws  are  already 
promulgated.  As  a  society  they  do  not  exercise  much,  if 
any,  control  over  the  means  of  subsistence. 

Advice,  however,  might  be  given,  but  not  followed.  If 
this  resulted  in  a  permanent  lowering  of  the  desirable 
activities  of  the  little  society  as  a  whole,  it  is  plain  that, 
since  it  is,  after  all,  but  a  part  of  a  larger  society,  authority 
and  force  should  be  used,  and  the  advice  would  become  a 
command.  Instead  of  a  large  number  of  policemen  desired 
[69] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

by  the  society,  which  would  result  in  lowering  its  produc- 
tiveness, just  that  number  would  be  allowed  which  was 
judged  by  the  superintendent  to  be  sufficient.  This  is, 
however,  the  present  condition.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how 
the  service  done  by  the  policeman  is  felt  by  the  children 
to  be  a  service  so  needful  that  they  would  sacrifice  anything 
for  its  continuance.  A  real  social  basis  for  the  honor  feel- 
ing, arising  from  the  individual  benefited  by  the  service  and 
bestowed  upon  an  individual  chosen  to  perform  it,  does  not 
obtain.  The  policeman  may  be  looked  up  to  and  honored 
because  he  is  clever,  has  passed  his  civil  service  examina- 
tion (a  necessary  prerequisite  for  a  policeman),  and  has  got 
an  easy  job,  and  not  because  he  is  felt  to  be  of  much  use. 
Honor  has  been  bestowed  upon  him  for  some  service,  but 
not  primarily  by  the  citizens  of  the  Republic.  In  his  selec- 
tion, however,  from  among  a  number  of  candidates,  there 
is  a  real  although  limited  opportunity  of  bestowing  honor. 
Here  it  is  serviceableness  in  his  office  that  ought  to  be 
judged,  but  how  can  this  serviceableness  be  measured  ?  Is 
it  not  likely  to  be  his  affability  and  pleasant  manner  which 
count  for  most  ?  These  are,  of  course,  social  services,  and 
especially  appropriate  in  a  policeman,  if  at  the  same  time 
other  aspects  of  his  duty  are  rigidly  performed.  The  test 
of  these  latter  may  be  passed  up  to  judge,  congress,  and 
president,  but  it  must  come  back  finally  to  Mr.  George. 
The  difficulty  is  that  the  Junior  Republic  cannot  fail  or 
go  to  pieces,  and  cannot  even  be  lowered  permanently  in 
economic  or  legal  well-being. 

This  is,  of  course,  as  it  should  be.    Children  have  a  right 
to  be  protected  from  economic  strain.    This  is  the  most 
fundamental  fact  about  children  from  a  societary  point  of 
[70] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS   AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

view.  To  come  into  contact  with  real  economic  conditions 
too  early  stunts  mental  and  moral  growth.  Children  are 
like  seedling  plants  which  put  forth  leaves  and  begin  to 
strike  root  on  nourishment  which  they  did  not  elaborate 
for  themselves.  Partly  embryonic  from  a  physiological 
standpoint,  they  are  still  more  so  from  a  social  one. 
Schools  are  social  embryos.  They  cannot  be  little  states 
modeled  after  that  of  adults.  A  physical  embryo  may 
be  provided  with  gill  slits,  but  it  is  not  a  fish ;  it  may 
have  the  sauropsidian  liver,  but  it  is  not  a  reptile. 
Neither  is  it  simply  a  little  edition  of  an  adult  human 
being. 

Similarly  with  the  school.  It  cannot  be  simply  a  repro- 
duction of  an  adult  society,  and  yet  the  laws  which  govern 
it  and  the  motives  which  actuate  its  components  must  be 
at  the  same  time  really  social  and  show  plainly  that  they 
are  developing  into  something  better.  Progressive  change, 
therefore,  rather  than  the  fixity  of  a  constitution,  we  should 
expect  to  find  characteristic  of  a  true  child  society.  Its 
point  of  contact  with  adult  society  is  as  vital  as  the  func- 
tion of  the  placenta  in  the  physical  embryo.  Since  the 
school  is  an  organism  which  is  the  result  of  conscious 
thought,  we  must  study  it  to  find  out  what  this  point  of 
contact  essentially  is.  If  it  is  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
hamper  the  best  spontaneous  development  of  the  school 
itself,  either  by  being  too  lax  or  too  stringent,  the  organ- 
ism suffers,  and  society  as  a  whole  is  defrauded  of  its  rights. 

Two  important  points  of  contact,  as  we  have  tried  to 
show  in  our  analysis  of  the  Junior  Republic,  are  the  appli- 
cation of  force  and  the  protection  from  economic  strain. 
But  it  is  just  at  these  two  points  that  the  management 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

of  the  Republic  tries  without  success,  except  as  a  play, 
to  imitate  adult  society.  Economic  conditions  and  the  use 
of  force  enter  into  every  school.  Their  favorable  or  un- 
favorable action  is  keenly  felt.  But  the  children  cannot 
be  held  responsible  for  the  results,  and  although  they  may 
receive  the  benefits,  they  cannot  wisely  or  profitably  con- 
trol either  of  the  factors  at  work. 

Mr.  George's  problem,  however,  was  to  develop  the  chil- 
dren by  getting  them  to  use  whatever  power  of  social  self- 
activity  and  social  initiative  they  did  possess,  rather  than 
to  have  them  depend  constantly  on  the  command  or  direc- 
tion of  a  superior.  It  is  only  where  failure  is  possible  that 
this  result  can  be  obtained,  and  it  is  in  the  comparatively 
non-coercive  features  of  the  Republic  that  we  actually  see 
such  a  possibility  realized.  This  comes  out  in  business 
ventures.  A  Junior  Republic  capitalist  takes,  for  example, 
a  contract.  He  hires  such  boys  as  he  can  depend  on.  If  it 
is  a  restaurant  he  is  running,  he  must  please  his  custom- 
ers, or  they  may  go  to  other  places.  If  his  plan  does  not 
work,  he  soon  loses  money  and  fails.  If  he  succeeds,  he 
has  employed  a  number  of  laborers  in  positions  which  they 
like  better  than  certain  others.  They  are  loyal  to  him  as 
he  to  them.  There  are  honor  motives  on  both  sides,  arising 
from  the  differentiation  of  talent  or  on  account  of  property 
won  by  work  or  serviceable  insight.  The  boy  is  a  real  leader 
for  real  purposes  which  he  can  measure  and  control.  Such 
a  social  situation,  however,  exists  within  the  circle  protected 
by  force,  and  could  be  applied  to  other  needs  or  aspirations 
than  to  feed  a  clientele  or  to  enrich  one's  self.  What  range 
of  opportunities  for  such  plans  and  schemes  does  the 
Republic  really  afford  ? 

[72] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

Is  it  not  true  that  these  opportunities  are  limited  largely 
to  economic  and  legal  matters,  and  do  not  rise  frequently 
enough  into  the  higher  sphere  of  idealism  which  is  pecu- 
liarly the  heritage  and  the  functional  place  of  children  and 
adolescents  ?  The  reduction  of  book  learning  to  a  falsely 
economic  basis  is  an  indication  of  this  fact.  Curiosity  about 
the  non-legal  and  non-economic  world,  wonder  and  admira- 
tion of  nature,  joy  in  construction  of  things  that  have  no  eco- 
nomic value,  —  boats,  cars,  clubs,  dramas,  etc.,  —  even  acts 
of  unpaid  labor  for  social  loyalty  and  devotion,  quite  capable 
of  being  socially  organized,  are  natural  to  children,  and  are 
much  more  essential  and  fundamental  to  the  life  of  society 
than  premature  skill  in  earning  a  living. 

It  is,  in  fact,  the  development  of  such  idealisms  in  the 
shape  of  science,  whether  of  nature  or  of  humanity,  which 
have  created  our  modern  life  with  the  vast  industrial  system 
on  which  it  floats.  It  is  these,  too,  which  hold  it  together 
in  the  face  of  destructive  tendencies,  and  which  we  hope 
may  yet  be  able  to  improve  the  present  imperfections  under 
which  we  suffer.  To  develop  these  idealistic  characteristics 
of  children,  it  will  be  noted,  has  always  been  the  aim  of 
our  culture  schools,  and  in  this  they  partially  succeed. 
Where  they  fail  it  is  due  to  imperfect  understanding  not 
only  of  the  child  as  an  individual  but  of  children  in  their 
social  relationships,  rather  than  to  an  error  in  the  aim  itself. 

The  motto,  Nothing  without  labor,  is  one  which  is 
much  more  suitable  for  the  Junior  Republic  than  for  a 
home  or  a  school  composed  of  normally  constituted  and 
normally  situated  American  children.  The  function  of 
the  Junior  Republic,  as  Dr.  Lincoln  points  out,  is  mainly 
the  rebuilding  of  moral  ruins.  The  children  are  already 
[73] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

preternaturally  and  morbidly  sharpened  on  just  these  legal 
and  economic  aspects  of  life.  To  show  them  what  these 
powers  are,  at  least  to  some  extent,  and  to  show  them  that 
they  do  not  necessarily  hurt,  it  may  be  wise  to  emphasize 
them  in  such  a  school.  The  children  are  probably  over- 
individualized  before  they  come.  The  cruel  necessity  for 
self-maintenance  and  self-protection  has  been  forced  upon 
them,  and  has  already  tended  to  degrade  them  socially. 
The  narrow  virtues  of  individual  self-control  rather  than 
the  service,  care,  and  thought  of  others  may  be  the  only 
ones  which  powerfully  appeal  to  them,  and  which  at  the 
start  can  be  successfully  added  on  to  their  earlier  experi- 
ences. That  to  some  extent,  at  least,  the  conditions  and 
the  rewards  of  this  control  come  from  their  own  compan- 
ions rather  than  from  Mr.  George,  affords  an  opportunity 
for  their  debased  feelings  and  low  views  of  life  to  rise  to 
something  more  truly  ethical  and  social.  But  just  in  pro- 
portion as  this  is  true,  the  Junior  Republic,  without  the 
substitution  of  something  more  educative  for  its  exagger- 
ated economic  and  legal  features,  does  not  form  a  good 
model  for  the  democratic  American  school  to  imitate. 

It  may  be  that  the  school  city  of  Mr.  Gill  arose  as  such 
an  imitation,  or  it  may  have  been  an  independent  concep- 
tion. This  is  a  plan  of  organization  which  consists  in  put- 
ting into  a  school  grade  the  government  paraphernalia  of  a 
ward  or  district  of  a  city,  or  sometimes  of  the  city  itself, 
in  having  laws,  district  courts,  attorneys,  etc.,  and  especially 
policemen.  In  a  day  school  economic  factors  are  of  course 
impossible. 

In  New  York  City,  where  the  question  of  imitating  pres- 
ent city  government  gives  rise  to  some  qualms,  the  Ray 
[74] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

System  is  sometimes  used.  This  is  modeled  after  Roman 
fashions,  and  provides  tribunes,  senators,  lictors,  etc.  It 
will  be  noted  that  the  focus  of  attention  is  still  occupied 
with  government  functions  rather  than  with  broad  social 
activities.  True,  in  adult  society,  government  functions 
are  indispensable  and  decisive,  but  they  exist  mainly  to  pro- 
tect other  interests  which  the  citizens  have  originated  and 
which  they  hold  steadily  at  heart.  These  interests,  too,  are 
not  wholly  individualistic  and  selfish,  but  are  such  as  re- 
quire cooperative  organization  for  their  development.  , 

In  a  school  we  have  the  necessary  force,  represented  by 
the  teachers,  to  protect  all  real  educative  interests  likely 
to  arise.  The  added  compulsive  force  of  the  children  ought 
not  to  be  required.  It  is  enough  that  they  tacitly  acquiesce 
in  its  administration.  Their  effort  and  cooperation  should 
rather  be  enlisted  in  the  work  of  voluntary  committees  or 
groups,  brought  together  naturally  by  a  common  interest 
or  purpose. 

The  term  "  self-government "  has  often  been  a  mislead- 
ing one  in  educational  discussions.  It  has  frequently  been 
used  to  signify  self-control,  either  in  the  individualistic 
sense,  or  as  the  self-direction  of  groups  without  outside 
compulsion.  In  either  of  these  interpretations  self-control, 
which  is  of  course  essential  to  all  high  social  development, 
goes  far  beyond  the  requirements  of  government.  What  is 
really  needed  in  our  schools  as  a  preparation  for  democracy 
and  our  highly  differentiated  society  is  not  self-government, 
but  self-control  and  the  self -direction  of  groups. 

It  is  the  latter  requirement  which  is  the  most  signifi- 
cant, and  also  the  least  understood.  In  adult  society  self- 
directed  groups  abound.  Every  church  in  America  is  a 
[75] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

good  example  of  this  fact.  In  earlier  times  a  church  was 
an  affair  of  coercive  government.  Forced  taxes  were  used 
for  its  support,  and  attendance  was  compelled  by  fines.  It 
is  plain  that  this  was  a  wrong  use  of  force,  which  is  now 
applied  only  for  the  purpose  of  protection,  or  sometimes  to 
foster  externally,  as  when  taxes  are  remitted  on  church 
property.  The  church,  however,  directs  its  internal  affairs 
without  compulsion.  Voting  or  parliamentary  rules  of  pro- 
cedure are  often  used,  but  it  is  plain  that  they  have  quite 
a  different  significance  from  what  they  have  in  the  state. 
In  the  church  they  mean  merely  a  registration  of  opinion, 
but  no  compulsion  follows.  Individuals  who  are  dissatisfied 
can  leave  the  church.  No  one,  on  the  contrary,  can  avoid 
the  control  of  a  government  unless  he  leaves  the  country 
and  swears  allegiance  to  another  one ;  and  even  in  this 
case,  in  the  most  important  matters,  the  laws  are  the  same. 
Extradition,  too,  if  he  has  broken  the  law,  may  follow  him 
to  another  state.  Besides  churches,  there  are  committees, 
voluntary  organizations,  etc.,  which  carry  on  projects  and 
interests,  and  hold  themselves  together  and  are  self -directive 
without  the  need  of  compulsion.  They  are  founded  on  the 
common  purposes  and  the  natural  social  capacities  and 
affinities  of  their  members,  and  are  free,  voluntary,  and 
highly  social  only  because  they  are  easily  capable  of  going 
to  pieces.  To  succeed  here,  even  as  a  follower,  is  an  honor  ; 
to  lead,  a  triumph. 

It  is  the  introduction  into  our  schools  of  such  voluntary, 
self-directed  purpose  groups,  rather  than  the  functions  of 
coercive  government,  which  may  be  expected  to  gratify  the 
social  instinct  of  the  children,  to  develop  their  resourceful- 
ness and  initiative,  and  to  fit  them  for  the  complicated  life 
[76] 


THE  SCHOOL  AS  AN  ORGANISM  — THE  REPUBLIC 

of  present  society.  It  is  in  this  direction  that  the  school 
may  show  itself  naturally  and  easily  as  an  embryonic  social 
organism,  manifesting  its  own  laws  of  growth,  rather  than 
as  prematurely  molded  after  the  model  of  a  not  too  perfect 
adult  community. 

REFERENCES 

1.  The  George  Junior  Republic,  a  report  of  the  Bureau  of  Labor 
and  Charities,  Syracuse,  New  York. 

2.  Mr.  William  I.  Hull,  "  The  George  Junior  Republic,"  Publica- 
tion of  the  American  Academy  of  Political  and  Social  Science, 
No.  205,  August  10,  1867. 

3.  Hull,  op.  cit. 

4.  Dr.  David  F.  Lincoln  in  The  Laming  Age.    Boston,  January, 
1900. 

5.  Hull,  op.  cit. 


[77] 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

Among  the  most  significant  of  the'  educational  experi- 
ments of  a  social  nature  that  have  appeared  in  recent 
times,  is  what  is  familiarly  known  as  the  Dewey  School. 
This  school  was  started  by  Professor  Dewey,  when  he 
was  in  Chicago  University,  in  order  to  work  out  some  of 
his  educational  theories  (l).  As  designed  by  him,  the  in- 
stitution no  longer  exists,  but  it  has  been  merged  with 
the  Emmons  Elaine  School,  originated  by  Colonel  Parker. 
The  combined  school  is  now  under  the  direction  of  The 
University  of  Chicago. 

It  will  be  impossible,  in  an  essay  of  this  character,  to 
give  a  satisfactory  account  of  Professor  Dewey's  point  of 
view  as  an  educator.  This  springs  from  his  position  as  a 
philosopher,  which  is  again  necessarily  implicated  with  cer- 
tain very  strong  and  original  views  in  logic,  epistemology, 
psychology,  and  ethics.  The  general  trend  of  these  views 
is  quite  in  the  line  of  the  modern  movement  in  these  studies. 
Psychology  is  looked  upon  as  essentially  functional,  and 
although  differing  greatly  in  detail  from  James,  Peirce, 
Schiller,  Bergson,  and  other  pragmatists  who  are  at  all 
careful  about  their  presuppositions,  Professor  Dewey,  in 
agreement  'with  these  authors,  makes  will  or  intention  the 
prominent  or  controlling  feature  of  the  science.  In  logic 
the  modern  thought  has  been,  since  Mill,  to  emphasize 
[78] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

inductive  thought  as  a  whole  process,  in  which  deduction 
plays  a  subordinate  part  (see  chapter  on  Reasoning).  Expe- 
rience, fact,  verification,  are  regarded  as  the  real  sources  of 
validity  of  all  categories,  which,  instead  of  being  set  eternal 
in  the  heavens,  are  really  nothing  more  than  working 
hypotheses.  In  ethics  the  discussions  of  ethnology  have 
compelled  a  similar  point  of  view.  The  moral  nature  is 
thought  of  as  a  result  of  successful  social  experience,  and 
it  is  shown  that  different  times  produce  different  con- 
sciences as  well  as  different  manners  (2). 

Professor  Dewey,  in  his  analytic  writings,  has  ably  car- 
ried out  these  views,  which  are  not  positivistic  in  the  usual 
sense  of  the  word,  and  have  no  quarrel  either  with  theology 
or  philosophy,  since  they  are  themselves  philosophical  or 
speculative  in  the  best  sense.  To  show  their  peculiar 
strength  or  weakness,  a  much  more  thorough  examination 
would  be  necessary  than  is  possible  here. 

As  a  true  pragmatist,  however,  Professor  Dewey  was 
forced  to  do  more  than  analyze.  It  was  essential  that  he 
should  carry  on  the  experimental  life,  and  not  only  test  his 
theories  by  practice,  but  obtain  from  this  practice  the 
necessary  corrections  of  his  theories.  For  this  no  better 
field  could  offer  than  the  school,  and  especially  the  elemen- 
tary school,  where  social  as  well  as  logical  motives  are 
comparatively  simple  and  undisguised. 

Professor  Dewey  regarded  his  school  as  a  laboratory, 
and  called  it  an  experimental  school.  He  started  not  so  much 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  child,  as  from  that  of  the 
course  of  study,  and  his  aim  was  to  find  a  course  of  study 
which,  after  being  thoroughly  tried  out  in  this  school, 
would  be  suitable  for  application  in  others.  This  accounts 
[79] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

for  some  features  which  have  often  been  found  objection- 
able by  so-called  good  disciplinarians.  The  material  or 
activities  to  be  presented  to  the  children,  after  being 
worked  out  by  the  teachers  beforehand,  must  not  be  forced 
upon  them  by  too  great  enthusiasm  or  by  suggested 
coercion.  The  children  must  be  allowed  the  opportunity 
to  show  their  dissatisfaction  and  restlessness  if  their  inter- 
ests are  not  naturally  engaged.  While  they  did  not  initiate 
any  leading  portions  of  the  course  of  study,  the  children 
were  expected  to  cooperate  in  the  details  of  its  execution, 
and  were  practically  permitted  the  freedom  of  rejection.  In 
its  application  to  other  schools  such  freedom  was  never 
presumed.  It  was  only  for  the  purpose  of  the  experi- 
mental school  that  it  was  to  be  tolerated. 

Whether  the  children  of  the  Dewey  School  knew  that 
this  was  the  theory  back  of  their  lessons  is  not  so  impor- 
tant. They  soon  enough  discovered  its  working  effects. 
These  effects,  however,  were  at  no  time,  during  any  visit 
of  mine  to  the  school,  productive  of  noticeable  disorder. 
New  adaptations  of  the  course  of  study  were  constantly 
being  made.  Phases  of  work  which  attracted  the  children 
were  also  being  discovered.  On  the  whole,  the  children 
were  interested  in  their  work.  Such  a  degree  of  interest, 
indeed,  as  they  manifested  is  never  to  be  found  in  a 
school  which  is  clamped  down  to  prevent  natural  reaction 
on  the  part  of  the  pupils.  Schools  of  this  latter  type  are 
equally  experimental,  although  as  a  rule  the  experimenter 
is  not  provided  with  sufficient  intelligence  to  know  when 
to  stop. 

Professor  Dewey  states  that  there  were  four  principal 
problems  which  were  worked  on  from  the  beginning  of 
[80] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

the  school:  (i)  the  question  of  the  unity  of  the  child's 
experience,  and  the  need  for  maintaining  the  connection 
between  home  and  school  life ;  (2)  the  question  of  import- 
ing richer  subject-matter  into  the  usual  seventy-five  or 
eighty  per  cent  of  merely  form  studies  ;  (3)  the  connecting 
of  these  necessary  formal  studies  —  reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic  —  with  subjects  which  appeal  to  the  child  on 
their  own  account ;  (4)  individual  attention,  which,  it  was 
hoped,  would  be  secured  by  small  grouping  of  eight  or 
ten  in  a  class.  In  working  out  these  problems,  "  shop- 
work  with  iron  and  wood,  cooking,  and  work  with  textiles 
(sewing  and  weaving) "  were  emphasized.  A  certain  amount 
of  geography,  scientific  work,  chemistry,  and  art  was  natu- 
rally correlated  with  them.  On  the  history  side  primitive 
occupations  were  used,  designed  to  show  the  child  the 
steps  of  progress  and  development,  especially  along  the 
line  of  invention,  by  which  man  was  led  into  civilization." 
The  groups  or  small  classes  were  formed  at  first  of  children 
of  "different  ages  and  attainments,"  since  it  was  believed 
that  "there  were  mental  advantages  in  having  the  older 
assume  certain  responsibilities  in  the  care  of  the  younger. 
As  the  school  grew  it  became  necessary  to  abandon  this 
method,  and  to  group  the  children  with  reference  to  their 
common  capacities.  These  groupings,  however,  were  based 
not  on  ability  to  read  and  write,  but  upon  similarity  of 
mental  attitude  and  interest,  and  upon  general  intellectual 
capacity  and  alertness."  The  groups  were  always  formed 
by  the  teacher  in  charge. 

Two  general  and  closely  related  aims  of  the  school  were 
to  give  the  children  whole  activities  rather  than  small  sec- 
tions of  work ;  and,  by  bringing  the  children  into  contact 
[81] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

with  various  teachers  and  various  influences,  to  prevent 
the  isolation  which  is  often  the  result  of  the  grade  system. 
Such  a  purpose  is  evidently  of  a  highly  social  character, 
especially  from  the  standpoint  of  the  relationship  of  the 
children  to  the  essence  of  the  past  life  of  society.  A  clear 
insight  into  the  past  is  at  least  one  way  of  grasping  the 
more  complicated  elements  of  which  the  present  is  composed. 

Professor  Dewey's  book  and  his  articles  on  education 
are  full  of  suggestions  and  demands  which,  if  capable  of 
being  carried  out,  as  the  reader  is  prone  to  understand 
them,  would  probably  realize  the  beginning  of  a  true  social 
democracy  in  the  school.  There  are  no  unnecessary  eco- 
nomic or  legal  complications.  Essential  societary  organiza- 
tion is  seen  to  be  a  much  broader  affair  than  mere 
government,  and  must  affect  the  course  of  study  rather 
than  confine  itself  to  policing.  The  aims  and  ideals  of 
a  true  culture,  rather  than  a  narrow  preparation  for  life, 
are  held  constantly  before  the  mind.  "  Education  is  life, 
not  a  preparation  for  life."  The  school  is  often  described 
by  him  as  a  social  embryo,  and  the  spontaneous  interest  and 
attention  of  the  children  are  spoken  of  as  the  sine  qua 
non  of  the  teacher's  art. 

Between  some  of  the  most  significant  social  ideals  for 
the  school  and  the  particular  exemplification  of  them  as 
expressed  in  Professor  Dewey's  writings,  there  is,  how- 
ever, so  far  as  the  present  writer  is  able  to  understand  it, 
an  irreconcilable  gap.  On  the  one  hand,  Professor  Dewey 
gives  a  clear  and  logical  account  of  many  of  the  social 
needs  and  functions  of  a  school;  on  the  other,  things 
as  they  are  worked  out  in  the  school  itself,  and  de- 
scribed by  him  as  examples,  fail  to  convince  the  observer 
[82] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

that  they  would  actually  fulfill  the  necessary  requirements. 
As  the  politicians  say,  he  does  n't  deliver  the  goods.  No 
doubt  the  realization  of  any  theory  of  education  always 
meets  with  serious  obstruction  in  practice, — lack  of  under- 
standing on  the  part  of  the  teachers,  and  material  deficien- 
cies as  well  as  the  nature  of  the  children  themselves  ;  but 
these  difficulties  should  return  upon  the  theory  and  mod- 
ify it,  if  it  is  to  maintain  itself  as  a  guide  and  remain 
free  from  the  suspicion  of  being,  to  a  considerable  extent, 
a  priori  and  ready-made.  A  less  seemingly  perfect  and 
logical  theory  may  thus  be  really  a  truer  working  hypoth- 
esis and  a  more  effective  means  of  promoting  both  theoret- 
ical and  practical  progress  than  one  apparently  strong  in 
every  part. 

Professor  Dewey  sees  very  clearly  the  tremendous  social 

defects  of  the  usual  type  of  school  of  the  present  day, 

its  narrowness  and  dullness,  its  isolation  from  life  and  the 
isolation  of  the  children  from  one  another,  its  emphasis  on 
the  mere  absorption  of  facts  by  uncooperative  individuals, 
its  competitive  standards  of  success,  the  negative  character 
of  its  discipline,  —  and  he  rightly  claims  for  a  reasonable 
education  more  active  work,  where  it  is  not  a  crime  to 
help  one's  neighbor,  but  where  a  "  spirit  of  free  communi- 
cation, of  interchange  of  ideas,  suggestions,  results,  both 
successes  and  failures  of  previous  experiences,  become  the 
dominating  note  of  the  recitation  "  (3).  In  another  pregnant 
passage  he  says,  "  We  must  conceive  of  work  in  wood  and 
metal,  of  weaving,  sewing,  and  cooking,  as  methods  of 
life,  not  as  distinct  studies.  We  must  conceive  of  them 
in  their  social  significance,  as  types  of  the  processes  by 
which  society  keeps  itself  going,  as  agencies  for  bringing 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

home  to  the  child  some  of  the  principal  necessities  of 
community  life,  and  as  ways  in  which  these  needs  have 
been  met  by  the  growing  insight  and  ingenuity  of  man ; 
in  short,  as  instrumentalities  through  which  the  school 
itself  shall  be  made  a  genuine  form  of  active  community 
life,  instead  of  a  place  set  apart  in  which  to  learn  lessons. 

"  A  society  is  a  number  of  people  held  together  because 
they  are  working  along  common  lines,  in  a  common  spirit, 
and  with  reference  to  common  aims.  The  common  needs 
and  aims  demand  a  growing  interchange  of  thought  and  a 
growing  unity  of  sympathetic  feeling.  The  radical  reason 
that  the  present  school  cannot  organize  itself  as  a  natural 
social  unit  is  just  because  this  element  of  common  and  pro- 
ductive activity  is  absent.  Upon  the  playground,  in  games 
and  sport,  social  organization  takes  place  spontaneously 
and  inevitably.  There  is  something  to  do,  some  activity  to 
be  carried  on,  requiring  natural  division  of  labor,  selection 
of  leaders  and  followers,  mutual  cooperation  and  emulation. 
In  the  schoolroom  the  motive  and  the  cement  of  social 
organization  are  alike  wanting.  Upon  the  ethical  side  the 
tragic  weakness  of  the  present  school  is  that  it  endeavors 
to  prepare  future  members  of  the  social  order  in  a  medium 
in  which  the  conditions  of  the  social  spirit  are  eminently 
wanting." 

What  more  admirable  short  description  of  the  social  ideal 
of  the  internal  organization  of  the  school  could  be  written 
than  the  last  of  these  two  paragraphs ! 

But  how  adequate,  it  must  be  asked,  are  the  means  pro- 
posed for  carrying  this  out  ?  Work  in  wood  and  metal,  and 
the  like,  may  sometimes  be  instrumental  in  this  direction, 
but  that  depends  entirely  on  who  it  is  that  realizes  them  as 
[84] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

instrumentalities.  Primitive  people  found  them  exceedingly 
important.  They  are  also  necessary  functions  of  modern 
civilization.  But  although  these  social  wholes  of  the  past 
and  the  present  have  found  such  activities  useful  and 
necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  their  social  efficiency,  it 
does  not  follow  that  it  would  be  a  social  advantage  for 
every  one  to  be  able  to  work  in  wood,  metal,  or  the  prepa- 
ration of  food.  Professor  Dewey  selects  these  activities 
partly  because  they  are  simple  and  partly  because  they 
are  historical.  In  a  group  of  a  dozen  children,  weaving, 
for  example,  is  proposed  by  the  teacher.  In  the  usual 
teacher's  way  he  tries  to  get  them  interested.  In  discus- 
sions with  them  he  plans  the  work  and  arranges  for  a 
certain  division  of  labor  among  the  dozen.  They  may  see 
the  interconnection  in  the  various  parts  of  the  work, 
observe  the  economy  in  the  division  of  labor  proposed,  and, 
on  account  of  its  simplicity,  may  grasp  the  wholeness  of 
the  product.  If  to  understand  the  process  of  weaving  as  it 
is  never  done  at  present  is  the  chief  aim,  this  is  accom- 
plished. But  if  it  is  the  creation  of  society,  and  not  of 
Indian  mats,  which  is  the  aim,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the 
children  have  no  real  responsibility  in  this  respect.  The 
boy  who  starts  a  restaurant  in  the  George  Junior  Republic 
is  responsible  for  its  success  or  failure,  because  the  project 
started  with  him  ;  he  may  modify  it  at  will,  and  he  may 
fail.  The  children  who  are  weaving  mats  under  the  direc- 
tion of  a  teacher  cannot  fail.  They  may  not  succeed  with 
the  mats,  and  they  may  be  disappointed  as  a  result ;  but  the 
responsibility  is  that  of  the  teacher,  and  the  success  of  the 
undertaking  depends  on  his  inspiration,  on  his  judgment 
and  sense.  The  teacher  is  always  the  leader,  and  the 
(  [85] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

children  are  directed  by  him.  They  are  not  even  voluntary 
followers.  The  groups  are  made  by  the  teachers  according 
to  their  judgment  of  the  personnel  and  the  number  which 
is  best.  No  pupils  are  free  to  leave.  The  freedom  and 
spontaneity  of  that  social  organization  of  which  Professor 
Dewey  speaks  cannot  arise,  as  it  does  on  the  playground, 
where  there  is  a  free  selection  of  leaders,  strict  division  of 
labor  necessary  for  the  particular  game,  and  exclusion  of 
those  who  are  superfluous,  unwilling,  or  socially  unattract- 
ive and  inefficient.  The  "  motive  and  cement  "  of  social  or- 
ganization, if  not  wanting,  is  at  least  not  cohesive  enough  to 
bind  the  children  together  should  the  teacher  be  removed. 
Despite  the  fact  that  a  great  many  of  Professor  Dewey's 
theoretical  statements  seem  to  demand  it,  the  work  is  not 
tested  in  its  social  aspects  as  a  nurseryman  tests  his  seed- 
lings, to  see  if  they  can  take  care  of  themselves,  and  of 
their  own  organizing  force  overcome  resistance  and  accom- 
plish results  in  the  same  spirit  which  should  be  expected 
of  them  later  on.  Under  these  circumstances  the  gap 
between  the  school  and  life  must  still  show  itself.  The 
"tragic  weakness"  of  the  school  from  the  social  standpoint 
of  democracy  may  be  carried  to  a  higher  plane,  but  it  must 
still  exist. 

Professor  Dewey  analyzes  admirably  the  working  out  of 
an  impulse  or  interest,  and  shows  that  this  means  "  running 
up  against  obstacles,  becoming  acquainted  with  materials, 
exercising  ingenuity,  patience,  persistence,  alertness ;  it  of 
necessity  involves  discipline  —  ordering  of  power  —  and  sup- 
plies knowledge.  Take  the  example,"  he  says,  "of  a  little 
child  who  wants  to  make  a  box.  If  he  stops  short  with  the 
imagination  or  wish,  he  will  certainly  not  get  discipline. 
[86] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

But  when  he  attempts  to  realize  his  impulse,  it  is  a  question 
of  making  his  idea  definite,  making  it  into  a  plan,  of  taking 
the  right  kind  of  wood,  measuring  the  parts  needed,  giv- 
ing them  the  necessary  proportions,  etc.  There  is  involved 
the  preparation  of  materials,  —  the  sawing,  planing,  sand- 
papering, making  all  the  edges  and  corners  to  fit.  Knowl- 
edge of  tools  and  processes  is  inevitable.  If  the  child  realizes 
his  impulse  and  makes  the  box,  there  is  plenty  of  oppor- 
tunity to  gain  discipline  and  perseverance,  to  exercise  effort 
in  overcoming  obstacles,  and  to  attain  as  well  a  great  deal 
of  information." 

How  very  true !  But  all  on  one  condition,  namely,  that 
the  child  continues  to  want  to  make  the  box.  At  this  point 
of  voluntary  control  appear  the  really  personal  and  social 
factors.  If,  in  a  misguided  moment,  a  small  child  said  he 
wanted  to  make  a  box,  and  found  gradually  unrolling  before 
him  not  his  idea  of  the  making  of  a  box  but  that  of  his 
teacher,  who  keeps  him  at  it,  the  above  general  analysis,  if 
applied  to  such  a  case,  would  need  to  be  very  materially 
modified. 

Unfortunately  Professor  Dewey  actually  fits  his  analysis 
to  just  such  a  case.  He  goes  on  to  say  :  "The  little  child 
who  thinks  he  should  like  to  cook  has  little  idea  of  what  it 
means  or  costs,  or  what  it  requires.  It  is  simply  a  desire 
to  'mess  around,'  perhaps  to  imitate  the  activities  of  older 
people."  But  if  this  is  so,  would  it  not  be  well  to  find  it  out 
at  the  beginning,  and  if  the  child's  real  idea  or  plan  shows 
no  likelihood  of  enlarging  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  his  perma- 
nent possession  until  the  work  he  plans  is  finished,  is  it 
social  or  logical  to  substitute  for  this  another  plan  of  cook- 
ing which  contains  the  meanings  and  requirements  that  the 

[871 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

teacher  sees  ?  The  child  may  get  discipline  and  knowledge 
out  of  this,  but  they  are  not  the  kind  of  discipline  and 
knowledge  which  Professor  Dewey  seems  to  have  had  in 
mind  when  he  wrote  the  analysis  we  have  just  quoted. 

In  the  case  we  are  citing,  the  cooking  went  on.  "  One  of 
the  children  became  impatient  at  having  to  work  things  out 
by  a  long  method  of  experimentation  and  said  :  '  Why  do  we 
bother  with  this  ?  Let 's  follow  a  recipe  in  a  cook  book.' 
The  teacher  asked  the  children  where  the  recipe  came  from, 
and  the  conversation  showed  them  that  if  they  simply  fol- 
lowed this  they  would  not  understand  the  reason  for  what 
they  were  doing.  They  were  then  quite  willing  to  go  on 
with  the  experimental  work  "  ! 

To  follow  that  work  will  give  an  illustration  of  just  the 
point  in  question.  "  Their  occupation  happened  that  day  to 
be  the  cooking  of  eggs,  as  making  a  transition  from  the 
cooking  of  vegetables  to  that  of  meats.  In  order  to  get  a 
basis  of  comparison,  they  first  summarized  the  constituent 
food  elements  in  the  vegetables,  and  made  a  preliminary 
comparison  with  those  found  in  meat.  Thus  they  found 
that  the  woody  fiber  or  cellulose  in  vegetables  corresponded 
to  the  connective  tissue  in  meat,  giving  the  element  of  force 
and  structure.  They  found  that  starch  and  starchy  products 
were  characteristic  of  the  vegetables,  that  mineral  salts  were 
found  in  both  alike,  and  that  there  was  fat  in  both,  —  a  small 
quantity  in  vegetable  food  and  a  large  amount  in  animal. 
They  were  prepared  then  to  take  up  the  study  of  albumen 
as  the  characteristic  feature  of  animal  food  corresponding 
to  starch  in  vegetables,  and  were  ready  to  consider  the 
conditions  requisite  for  the  proper  treatment  of  albumen  — 
the  eggs  serving  as  the  material  of  experiment." 
[88] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

They  went  on  to  experiment  quite  successfully  with  the 
white  of  the  egg,  and  at  the  end,  as  Professor  Dewey  says, 
"  were  prepared  not  simply  to  cook  eggs,  but  to  understand 
the  principle  involved  in  the  cooking  of  eggs." 

It  is  certainly  not  educative  "  for  a  child  simply  to  desire 
to  cook  an  egg  and  accordingly  drop  it  into  the  water  for 
three  minutes,  and  take  it  out  when  he  is  told,"  as  Professor 
Dewey  says ;  and  if  the  child  did  truly  "  realize  his  own 
impulse  by  recognizing  the  facts,  materials,  and  conditions 
involved,"  and  then  continued  to  regulate  his  impulse 
through  that  recognition,  it  would  be  educative,  as  Professor 
Dewey  says  again.  But  who  can  think  that  this  is  what  has 
been  done  ?  There  is  no  proof  or  indication  of  it.  The  child's 
impulse  and  the  child's  real  point  of  view  were  evidently 
lost  sight  of  quite  early  in  the  proceeding.  The  children 
are  said  to  have  been  willing  to  go  on  with  the  experi- 
mental work,  but  after  the  teacher's  talk  and  her  plainly 
implied  attitude,  what  alternative  was  there  ?  From  a  social 
point  of  viewand  as  a  social  factor  in  the,  class,  how  much 
further  on  is  such  a  teacher,  except  perhaps  in  tact  and 
skill  in  carrying  out  a  difficult  proposition,  than  the  teacher 
who  outlines  such  work  as  she  thinks  can  be  done,  and  sees 
that  the  children  do  it,  without  bothering  much  about  their 
immediate  impulses,  their  spontaneous  and  inevitable  social 
organization,  or  the  natural  development  of  their  point  of 
view  ?  In  both  cases  there  is  a  social  organization  actively 
springing  from  the  teacher,  and  in  which  the  children  take 
some  part,  but  in  neither  case  do  the  children  stake  them- 
selves upon  the  issue  and  feel  that  truly  voluntary  and 
creative  responsibility  which  is  rewarded  by  nothing  further 
than  the  success,  and  humiliated  by  nothing  further  than 

!  [89] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

the  failure,  of  cherished  plans.  It  is  the  constant  presence 
of  vital  will  and  intention  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  all 
genuine  effort,  and  this,  rather  than  a  prearranged  simplic- 
ity of  material  or  occupation,  gives  the  wholeness  to  any 
activity. 

Where  the  children's  deepest  intention  is  to  follow  out 
the  teacher's  direction,  to  get  into  the  spirit  of  it,  to  wel- 
come the  task  that  is  set,  we  have,  whether  the  work  is  in 
weaving  or  in  algebra,  a  highly  moral  and  indispensable  fac- 
tor in  social  education.  Necessarily  mingling  with  this,  in 
various  degrees  according  to  the  personality  of  the  child,  are 
factors  of  will  which  spring  from  more  self-centered  desires. 
Many  children  like  such  activities  as  weaving,  for  its  own 
sake.  The  freedom  of  movement,  the  natural  and  unforced 
play  of  attention  required,  are  quite  enough  to  account  for 
this,  without  the  operation  of  formative  social  desires.  But 
even  small  children  also  set  themselves  to  much  more  diffi- 
cult and  even  formal  tasks,  and  maintain  their  intention  un- 
til accomplishment  crowns  their  effort.  This  intention  is 
the  background  motive  of  their  obedience  to  the  teacher. 

As  an  illustration  of  this  I  may  quote  the  case,  which  is 
not  at  all  unique,  of  a  little  five-year-old  girl  whose  father 
read  to  her  the  story  of  Lamia  from  a  book.  She  said 
nothing  until  years  afterwards  of  the  intention  that  was 
born  of  that  experience,  but  it  nevertheless  controlled  a 
large  part  of  her  life.  She  said  that  this  was  the  first 
time  she  had  noticed  that  people  got  their  wonderful 
stories  by  reading.  The  thing  haunted  her  and  she  set 
herself  to  the  apparently  formal  task  of  learning  to  read. 
She  went  to  a  very  poor  school,  submitted  herself  willingly 
to  all  the  unskillful  operations  of  a  dull  and  inefficient 
[90] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

teacher,  and  as  a  result  accomplished  her  ambition  in  a 
comparatively  short  time. 

There  are  some  children,  and  perhaps  more  than  is  sup- 
posed, who  look  upon  weaving,  picking  cotton,  etc.,  as  fool- 
ish, even  when  they  do  not  get  that  attitude  from  the  home. 
They  are  doubtless  comparing  these  operations  with  some 
more  revered  and  cherished  plans  of  their  own.  These 
plans  need  to  be  discovered,  fairly  dealt  with,  brought 
out  into  the  open,  and,  instead  of  being  criticised  out  of 
existence,  helped  along  their  way.  If  they  are  seemingly 
formal,  sympathetic  inquiry  will  probably  find  a  germ  of 
reality  out  of  which  they  have  grown.  Being  founded  in 
personal  will,  itself  derived  from  previous  social  contact, 
they  are  the  true  starting  points  of  further  social  organi- 
zation which  can  be  real  and  effective  only  in  proportion 
as  it  carries  out  the  original  energy  of  those  genuine  and 
too  often  unexpressed  desires. 

To  find  the  best  possible  course  of  study  that  can 
be  organized  by  the  teacher  is  a  great  work  and  of  in- 
estimable value  to  education.  To  this  result  Professor 
Dewey  has  given  the  world  a  notable  contribution.  He 
has  seen,  theoretically  at  least,  that  it  is  the  course  of 
study  rather  than  the  rest  of  the  daily  life,  as  in  Abbots- 
holme,  or  the  legal  and  economic  conditions,  as  in  the 
Junior  Republic,  which  is  the  essential  work  of  the 
school,  and  into  which  the  spirit  of  democratic  social 
service  ought  to  be  introduced. 

But  the  best  possible  course  of  study,  if  organized  by 

the  teacher,  gives  us  a  teacher's  tool  rather  than  one  for 

the   children.    No   doubt  every  teacher's  tool  should   be 

adapted  to  the  children  and  to  many  of  their  instincts. 

[91] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The  children,  moreover,  ought  not  only  to  yield  or  receive, 
but  to  help  in  working  the  tool  themselves.  This  is  indeed 
truly  social,  so  far  as  it  goes.  But  in  order  to  complete  the 
social  development  needed  for  democracy,  real  leadership, 
which  is,  after  all,  the  highest  kind  of  social  service,  is 
necessary,  as  well  as  cooperative  obedience.  Its  full  limits 
and  highest  potentialities  should  be  recognized  in  the 
school,  and  the  children  should,  therefore,  as  true  pragma- 
tists  themselves,  be  permitted  or  helped  to  make  their 
own  course  of  study,  to  some  extent,  at  least,  and  to  find 
or  make  such  tools  and  social  organizations  as  they  them- 
selves see  to  be  necessary  for  the  realization  of  their  aims. 
In  no  other  way  can  one  be  sure  that  the  character  and 
habits  which  we  expect  of  them  in  life  have  really  taken 
root  and  can  maintain  themselves  when  the  children  have 
left  the  school.  When  this  is  done,  as  an  integral  part  of 
the  school  work,  teachers  may  obtain  not  only  a  measure- 
ment of  their  own  best  efforts,  but  a  better  opportunity  to 
study  the  children's  social  processes,  and  thus  adapt  the 
work,  in  which  they  as  teachers  are  necessarily  leaders 
and  directors,  to  the  social  capacities  of  those  with  whom 
they  deal. 

In  this  short  review  of  the  Dewey  School  the  reader 
may  have  noticed  that  the  cases  which  Professor  Dewey 
offers  as  illustrations  show  the  mental  mechanism  of  the 
individuals,  as  such,  much  better  than  the  nature  of  the 
groups  or  the  little  societies  of  which  they  form  a  part. 
While  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  an  understanding  of 
the  general  problem  to  obtain  clear  and  detailed  interpre- 
tations of  the  mental  happenings  and  development  occur- 
ring in  typical  children,  it  does  not  follow  that  this  is 
[92] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

enough,  or  indeed  that  it  supplies  the  most  important 
and  controlling  factor  in  the  situation.  Herbert  Spencer 
seemed  to  be  of  the  opinion  that  a  calculus  of  the  psychic 
traits  of  individuals  would  determine  beforehand  the  nature 
of  the  groups  which  arise  from  their  association,  and  this  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  he  claimed  to  regard  society  as  prior 
to  the  individual.  The  truth  is,  as  already  stated,  that 
neither  is  actually  prior,  and  yet  society  as  it  exists  at  any 
one  time  is  much  less  plastic  and  more  compelling  from  a 
causal  standpoint  than  the  nature  of  the  individuals  which 
compose  it. 

In  this  respect,  as  Durkheim  points  out  (4),  there  is 
something  of  a  contrast  between  the  biological  organism 
and  the  organization  of  individuals  called  society.  In  the 
body  the  cell  unit  is,  for  the  most  part,  permanent  in  place 
and  hereditarily  fixed  in  function.  With  the  higher  animals 
substitution  of  function  among  the  different  parts  is  very 
rare,  and  most  apparent  in  the  brain,  which  is  the  organ 
immediately  subserving  social  action.  The  case  is  quite  dif- 
ferent in  all  highly  developed  societies.  Here  individuals 
move  freely  from  one  position  to  another,  and  constantly 
change  their  r61es,  sometimes  to  a  very  great  extent.  For 
America  especially,  this  feature  is  fundamental  and  char- 
acteristic. The  successful  mule  driver  of  to-day  may  be 
the  successful  President  of  to-morrow.  Every  kind  of  equal- 
ity of  opportunity  for  each  and  all  is,  as  we  are  never  tired 
of  saying,  the  presupposition  and  the  aim  of  democracy. 

Such  interchange  or  development  of  social  function  is 
impossible  without  the  greatest  plasticity  on  the  part  of 
individuals.  This  plasticity,  however,  while  it  has  a  bio- 
logical basis,  is  useful  only  as  it  is  played  upon  by  society. 
[93] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Habits  of  social  action,  not  so  permanent  that  they  may 
not  be  changed  if  occasion  demands,  must  be  formed  and 
used  in  building  up  the  structure  of  society.  The  social 
situation  in  which  a  person  finds  himself,  or  the  group 
with  which  he  is  in  contact,  has  thus  the  most  to  do  with 
his  role  or  function  in  society  and  his  success  in  life.  The 
family  in  which  the  average  individual  is  brought  up  has 
usually  even  more  to  do  with  his  serviceableness  to  society 
than  the  one  in  which  he  is  born.  No  doubt  the  possibilities 
must  be  latent  in  the  individual,  but  different  groupings  with 
quite  similar  material  produce  entirely  different  results. 

If,  then,  we  are  to  educate  the  children  for  democracy, 
it  is  the  nature  of  the  groups  in  which  they  work,  the  vary- 
ing constitution  and  development  of  these,  and  the  reper- 
cussion of  them  on  the  constituent  individuals,  which  form 
the  most  important  element  in  the  process. 

The  group  or  society  of  which  the  teacher  aims  to  be  the 
leader  and  inspirer  from  a  social  standpoint  is  usually  more 
or  less  of  a  mere  aggregate,  rather  than  an  organization  (5). 
There  is  every  reason  why  the  teacher  should  aim  to  organ- 
ize this  aggregate.  In  no  other  way  can  he  become  really 
the  leader.  When  this  is  not  done,  the  aggregate  does  not 
remain  in  a  neutral  condition.  Organization  sets  in,  inde- 
pendently of  the  teacher.  It  is  not  always  fully  conscious 
of  itself,  but  it  is  none  the  less  influential.  Certain  boys 
or  girls  are  looked  to  by  the  others  for  guidance,  and 
become  centers  of  disturbance.  They  are  watched  by  the 
others  for  indications  as  to  how  far  the  class  as  a  whole 
may  go  in  opposition  to  the  teacher.  Sometimes  there  are 
chiefs  for  war  and  chiefs  for  peace.  When  a  teacher  runs 
against  such  a  chief,  it  is  no  longer  an  individual  he  is 
[94] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

dealing  with,  and  even  when  he  finds  fault  with  some 
humble  member  of  the  tribe,  unless  the  chief  consents 
to  ignore  or  to  condone  the  treatment  given,  the  teacher 
may  meet  with  as  much  difficulty  and  silent  antagonism 
as  if  the  individual  had  been  socially  important.  The 
flag  of  the  tribe  protects  its  feeblest  member. 

Frequently  more  than  one  such  group  or  clique  can  be 
found  in  a  class,  and  although  there  may  be  some  rivalry, 
there  is  usually  a  status  quo.  Those  not  in  any  group  are 
left  over,  either  as  the  teacher's  pets,  or  as  the  offscouring 
of  the  class.  When  groups  have  once  formed,  the  teacher 
who  does  not  realize  it  is  lost.  His  best  resource  is  in 
some  way  to  get  hold  of  the  leaders.  In  old-fashioned 
schools  leadership  was  often  determined  by  actual  fight- 
ing (e).  If  the  teacher  "  licked  "  the  leader,  he  had  the  rest 
of  the  school.  In  modern  city  schools  leadership  is  a  good 
deal  more  subtile,  and  the  appeal  to  force,  by  calling  in  the 
head  master,  or  by  physical  punishment  for  offenses,  is  not 
very  effective.  The  group  still  remains  loyal,  and  treats  the 
punishment  as  an  act  of  war.  This  is  just  because  such 
punishment  is  not  at  all  a  fight  in  which  personal  address 
and  vigor  have  any  part.  The  teacher,  on  the  contrary,  is 
merely  calling  in  the  organized  force  of  the  community  of 
adults  to  which  he  belongs.  This  is  known  to  be  superior , 
to  any  form  of  frontal  attack.  Guerrilla  warfare  is  all  that 
is  possible. 

It  is  the  impression  of  the  present  writer,  due  to  a  fairly 
wide  experience  of  schools,  both  in  the  East  and  West,  that 
at  least  fifty  per  cent  of  the  higher-grade  classes  in  the 
public  schools  are,  to  a  greater'  or  less  extent,  in  such 
a  state  of  antagonism  to  the  teacher.  This  is  not  always 
[95] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

carried  so  far  as  to  prevent  a  certain  kind  of  work  from 
being  done.  The  teacher  may  be  respected  as  one  would 
respect  an  officer  of  an  opposing  army,  but  he  is  not  in 
any  real  sense  a  leader.  It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  the 
members  of  the  children's  groups,  taken  individually,  have 
usually  nothing  criminal  or  even  unsocial  about  them.  It 
is  the  group  to  which  they  belong,  rather  than  their  own 
personality,  which  determines  their  conduct.  Such  organi- 
zations, however,  even  when  largely  instinctive  and  uncon- 
scious, are  a  menace  to  the  best  interests  of  the  children, 
who,  no  matter  what  their  achievements  may  be  in  read- 
ing, writing,  and  arithmetic,  are  getting  an  education  in 
hostility  to  many  of  the  best  things  in  society  as  a  whole. 
In  some  way  the  teacher  must  creep  into  or  break  into  this 
child  community,  if  he  is  to  lead  it  out  of  its  narrowness 
and  set  it  on  the  way  to  a  higher  development. 

Sometimes  the  doors  open  by  accident,  and  the  teacher, 
if  he  realizes  it,  may  enter  naturally.  A  case  told  me 
by  a  distinguished  Boston  educator  of  his  own  experience 
when  teacher  of  a  ninth  grade  will  illustrate  this  point. 
A  case  of  discipline  had  arisen,  and  the  teacher  said  to  a 
certain  boy,  "  Well,  there  is  no  doubt  that  I  shall  have 
to  punish  you."  The  boy  replied  in  the  presence  of  the 
class,  "  Oh,  yes,  punish  me ;  you're  always  down  on  me." 
This  touched  the  teacher,  and,  being  human  enough  to 
flare  up,  he  said  impulsively  :  "  I'll  leave  it  to  the  rest 
if  you  don't  deserve  it.  More  than  that,  I'll  leave  the 
class  entirely  to  itself  in  deciding.  I'll  turn  my  face  to 
the  wall,  and  they  can  vote  without  my  seeing  them,  and 
I'll  never  ask  a  boy  how  he  has  voted."  The  vote  was 
reported  to  the  teacher  as  unanimously  in  favor  of 
[96] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

the  boy's  being  punished.  At  this  point  the  boy  broke 
down  completely,  and  through  his  tears  said,  "  Well,  it 
must  be  right,  since  everybody  says  so." 

The  interesting  and  significant  feature  of  this  experience 
is  the  effect  of  the  class  sentiment  on  the  boy.  His  attitude 
of  defiance  in  the  first  place  was  evidently  conditioned  by 
his  thought  that  the  class  was  back  of  him  ;  and,  indeed,  so 
it  might  have  been  but  for  the  action  of  the  teacher.  The 
case  throws  a  strong  light  on  the  real  nature  of  punish- 
ment. This  is  never  the  mere  infliction  of  pain  or  other 
inconvenience.  With  a  desirable  social  backing  boys  are 
proud  of  these  signs  of  prowess.  Although  they  may  suffer, 
and  sometimes  give  vent  to  the  natural  expression  of  their 
suffering,  they  are  no  more  guided  by  this  in  their  future 
action  than  is  a  martyr  on  the  rack.  Punishment  is  the 
disapproval  and  repression  of  the  group  one  feels  he  be- 
longs to.  Nothing  else  is  punishment.  It  may  sometimes 
require  a  rite  or  ceremony  like  the  administration  of  pain 
to  make  it  understood  and  to  show  that  it  is  serious,'  but 
it  is  the  spirit  of  exclusion  which  is  the  reality  back  of  this 
physical  expression.  Indeed  the  infliction  of  some  more  or 
less  revengeful  pain  often  has  the  effect  of  reconcilement. 
By  this  act  the  community  still  remains  in  contact  with  its 
recalcitrant  member.  It  puts  him  in  a  position  where  his 
fellows  observe  him  closely.  He  is  the  central  figure  of  the 
tragedy.  The  others  watch  him  and  imagine  how  he  is 
feeling.  If  he  acts  in  such  a  way  as  to  awaken  sympathy, 
either  by  heroism  or  by  more  or  less  dignified  humility 
and  repentance,  the  hate  of  the  community  generally  turns 
to  a  degree  of  admiration,  and  the  punishment  is  over. 
Capital  punishment,  unless  where  the  imagination  carries 
[97] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

the  drama  into  the  next  world,  is  thus  the  only  form  which 
is  quite  hopeless  from  this  standpoint. 

When  a  teacher  administers  punishment  or  reproof  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  that  he  carry  with  him  the  best  senti- 
ment of  the  class.  He  can  do  this  on  ordinary  occasions, 
at  least,  only  if  the  punishment  be  applied  to  prevent  hin- 
drances, not  to  such  activities  as  the  teacher  thinks  are  de- 
sirable, but  to  those  which  the  class  can  be  made  sincerely 
to  approve.  To  get  in  sight  of  the  solution  of  such  a  prob- 
lem, no  mere  knowledge  of  individuals  as  such,  or  course 
of  study,  however  excellent,  will  ever  suffice.  It  is  the 
social  action  of  the  class,  the  nature  of  the  groups  really 
at  work,  their  aims  and  ideals,  their  leadership  and  organi- 
zation, which  the  teacher  must  find  an  opportunity  to 
study,  and,  if  possible,  to  modify  or  control. 

The  most  reasonable  way  out  of  the  difficulties  we  have 
described  would  seem  to  be,  not  to  hand  over  the  strictly 
governmental  functions  to  the  children,  although  this  may 
sometimes  partially  succeed,  but  to  make  some  suitable  op- 
portunity in  the  regular  work  of  the  school  for  real  leader- 
ship and  organization  on  their  part.  If  this  phase  of  work 
is  to  exclude  the  use  of  force,  it  must  find  an  opening  into 
the  course  of  study.  It  must  not  be  relegated  to  off  days, 
Friday  afternoons,  or  to  the  home  or  the  street,  but  must 
be  represented  on  the  time-table.  As  we  have  seen,  the 
leadership  of  the  antagonistic  class  groups  does  not  depend 
much,  in  modern  city  schools  at  least,  on  the  use  of  force. 
These  groups  are  attractive  enough  to  hold  themselves 
together  without  it.  If,  now,  we  can  bring  out  the  leader- 
ship involved  in  these  mistaken  efforts  of  the  children,  and 
use  the  force  at  the  disposal  of  the  teacher  to  foster  and 
[98] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

protect  the  organizations  that  would  be  formed,  the  class 
would  get  a  lively  sense  of  the  benefits  springing  from  the 
teacher's  power,  and  would  be  more  disposed  to  admit  its 
use  on  other  occasions.  The  leaders  themselves  would  get 
an  opportunity  for  a  full  swing,  and  they  would  get  this  in 
the  presence  of  the  teacher,  and  with  his  approbation  and 
consent.  The  teacher  might,  to  some  extent,  become  a  fol- 
lower in  some  groups,  and  offer  advice  and  opinions  which 
might  not  always  be  accepted  by  the  leader. 

Indeed,  if  this  did  not  sometimes  happen,  two  alterna- 
tives would  arise.  Either  the  teacher  would  stand  off  and 
merely  observe  at  a  distance  the  operations  of  the  group, 
or  there  would  be  a  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  children  that 
the  teacher  after  all  was  the  real  leader  of  the  group.  Both 
of  these  alternatives  would  be  fatal  to  this  phase  of  educa- 
tion. The  teacher  needs  to  get  into  the  groups  as  much 
as  possible,  but  by  no  means  as  an  authoritative  leader  or 
organizer.  His  advice  must  have  no  more  weight  than  its 
evident  good  sense  and  its  capability  of  furthering  the  real 
interests  of  the  children  will  afford.  When  the  class  reverts 
to  the  previous  condition  of  affairs,  and  when  the  teacher  be- 
comes again  the  director,  he  will  have  an  entirely  different 
community  to  deal  with.  Not  only  will  he  have  discovered 
some  of  the  natural  leaders  (and  who  they  are  may  often 
be  a  surprise  to  him),  but  he  will  have  been  able  to  learn 
a  good  deal  about  how  the  followers  are  influenced.  Best 
of  all,  he  will  be  regarded  by  the  leaders  as  one  of  them- 
selves. If  he  is  broad  enough  to  allow  his  newly  acquired 
experience  to  modify  his  old  habits,  they  will  be  disposed 
to  study  his  methods  of  leadership  rather  than  to  continue 
to  waste  energy  in  warfare.  They  remain  conscious  of  the 
[99] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

power  within  them,  which  is  shortly  again  to  have  oppor- 
tunity for  exercise  and  display.  Under  such  conditions  the 
latent,  underground  kind  of  organization  may  find  a  normal 
outlet,  an  opportunity  to  become  more  conscious  and  pro- 
gressive, and  at  the  same  time  it  may  provide  the  teacher 
with  a  natural  opening  into  the  heart  of  the  children's 
social  life. 

As  will  be  seen,  it  is  not  a  revolutionary  or  radical 
change  of  all  school  procedure  which  the  introduction  of 
self -organized  purpose  groups  would  bring  about.  Such  a 
change  means  rather  a  conservation  and  development  of 
the  educational  values  that  are  already  to  be  found  in  the 
real  leadership  of  the  teacher,  although  leadership  on  the 
part  of  many  of  the  students  would  also  be  made  possible. 

It  might  be  asked,  though  hardly  by  practical  people, 
why,  if  a  given  attitude  or  relationship  between  pupil  and 
teacher  is  a  good  and  social  thing  for  one  part  of  the  day, 
something  different  is  needed  for  another.  Or,  if  a  teacher 
can  catch  the  spirit  of  true  leadership  which  makes  room 
for  all  the  children  as  active  and  constructive  followers, 
why  he  should  not  continue  to  lead  throughout.  This  true 
leadership  is  of  course  excellent,  but  it  will  come  much 
more  surely  and  naturally  as  a  result  of  the  observation 
of  children's  independent  groups  than  it  ever  can  with- 
out them.  For  the  very  lowest  grades,  however,  such  an 
attitude  is  probably  all  that  can  be  expected.  But,  as  we 
have  already  tried  to  show,  the  true  constructive  power 
of  a  follower  cannot  be  measured  when  he  is  under  the 
direction  of  another,  nor  is  it  to  be  expected  in  a  demo- 
cratic society  that  leadership  should  be  confined  to  one  or  a 
few.  We  often  hear  that  he  who  would  command  must  first 
[100] 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  SOCIETY 

learn  to  obey.  Nothing  could  be  truer,  except  its  converse, 
that  he  who  would  obey  in  spirit  and  in  truth  must  also 
know  how  to  command.  There  is  no  individual  in  a  demo- 
cratic community  who  has  not  found  it  necessary,  on  occa- 
sion, to  direct  others.  This  direction  may  not  apply  to  many 
at  a  time,  and  it  may  not  be  for  long,  but  when  the  oppor- 
tunity comes  much  more  depends  upon  his  action  than 
when  he  played  a  follower's  role.  At  present  our  society 
suffers  more  from  the  lack  of  true  leadership,  and  the  kind 
of  insight  and  morality  necessary  for  such  a  function,  than 
from  any  other  fault.  The  leader  is  so  scarce  that  an  undue 
premium  is  placed  upon  him.  This  shows  itself  strikingly 
in  commerce  as  in  politics,  where  the  wage  of  even  blunder- 
ing leaders  forms  an  enormous  tax  upon  the  community. 

With  greater  practical  experience  and  insight  into  what 
leadership  really  means,  we  may  hope  to  produce  more  com- 
petent leaders  to  select  from  and  more  intelligent  followers 
to  select  them.  Besides  being  a  test  and  measure  of  the 
capacity  of  the  social  work  of  the  teacher  to  live  and  main- 
tain itself  when  his  direction  is  removed,  the  self-organized 
group  ought  to  afford  a  direct  means  of  education  designed 
to  touch  the  democratic  problem  at  the  point  of  its  culmi- 
nating service  to  the  community  at  large. 

REFERENCES 

1.  John  Dewey,  The  School  and  Society. 

2.  Cf.  Hermann  Post,  Der  Ursprung  des  Rechts,  1876. 

3.  Dewey,  op.  cit.,  p.  29. 

4.  Emile  Durkheim,  De  la  division  du  travail  social,  p.  367  seq. 

5.  F.  H.  Giddings,  Principles  of  Sociology. 

6.  Cf.  The  Hoosier  Schoolmaster. 

[101] 


CHAPTER  VI 

SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

The  reader  has  now  before  him  some  of  the  social  needs 
which  free,  self -organized  work  would  go  far  toward  satisfy- 
ing. In  each  of  the  three  schools  studied  in  the  previous 
chapters,  we  found  elements  of  a  high  degree  of  social  value, 
and  an  approximate  solution  of  the  problem  of  educative 
social  organization.  Space  prevents  us  from  studying  other 
schools  in  detail,  although  one  of  them  at  least,  the  Ethical 
Culture  School  of  New  York,  founded  by  Felix  Adler,  has 
arrived  under  Mr.  Manny,  its  recent  superintendent,  at  a 
high  degree  of  social  efficiency,  and  would  amply  repay 
investigation.  We  must,  however,  hurry  on  to  the  prob- 
lem of  the  average  grade  school  of  the  times,  and  at- 
tempt to  show  how  it  is  possible,  even  with  crowded 
classes  and  without  special  equipment,  to  obtain  in  the 
people's  schools  those  cooperative  and  self-sustaining 
motives  which  are  worthy  of  democracy  and  best  able 
to  measure  the  teacher's  work. 

The  experiences  to  be  described  may  be  called  experi- 
ments, but  not  in  the  sense  that  they  were  instituted  merely 
to  see  how  they  would  turn  out.  They  were  experiments 
simply  in  the  sense  that  all  life  is  experimental,  and  were 
devised  with  the  view  that  the  development  of  intention 
and  resourcefulness  on  the  part  of  the  pupil  is  the  greatest 
and  most  undeniable  duty  of  any  form  of  education.  They 

[102] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

are  not,  however,  the  outcome  of  any  particular  a  priori 
theory  of  either  individual  or  social  action,  and  they  have, 
therefore,  the  character  of  scientific  data,  from  which  use- 
ful generalizations  may  be  made,  capable  of  carrying  both 
thought  and  practice  into  larger  fields.  The  naturalness  of 
the  data  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  different  schcols,  and 
in  the  same  schools  from  year  to  year,  a  given  piece  of 
work  is  never  repeated.  As  some  one  has  said,  "  Constant 
change  is  the  unchanging  law  of  humanity."  Different  con- 
ditions and  different  children  always  produced  different  re- 
sults. There  was  nothing  to  justify  any  expectation  that 
we  should  ever  be  able  to  obtain  by  our  experiments  an 
ideal  course  of  study  capable  of  being  handed  over  to  other 
schools.  There  was  no  hope  that  we  should  ever  be  able 
to  stereotype  the  results  in  text-books  and  fix  them  upon 
the  brains  of  a  rising  generation. 

The  experiments  naturally  start  from  a  background  of 
dictated  work  derived  from  the  usual  course  of  study,  and 
it  was  always  a  condition  that  no  work  was  to  be  permitted, 
the  plan  of  which  the  teacher  did  not  approve ;  although 
after  it  was  started  it  might  fail  or  succeed  without  the 
teacher's  stepping  in  to  bolster  it  up  or  to  coerce  its  sup- 
porters. There  never  was  any  likelihood  that  in  the  lowest 
grades,  at  least,  the  children's  self-organized  work  would 
absorb  the  whole  of  the  school  work  or  all  the  time  on 
the  programme.  Dictated  work  which  the  teacher  leads 
directly,  and  courses  of  study,  however  much  they  may  be 
modified,  will  always  be  needed  to  some  extent  in  the  edu- 
cation of  the  young. 

Several  years  ago  the  present  writer,  in  cooperation  with 
two  third-grade  teachers  in  the  Chicago  and  Cook  County 
[103] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Normal  School  (Miss  Margaret  Mclntyre  and  Miss  Jessie 
Black)  introduced  the  proposition  of  self-organized  work  to 
their  pupils.  Each  teacher  said  to  her  class,  with  as  much 
simplicity  as  was  possible,  something  like  the  following  :  "If 
you  had  time  given  to  you  for  something  that  you  enjoy 
doing,  and  that  you  think  worth  while,  what  should  you 
choose  to  do  ?  When  you  have  decided  how  you  would  spend 
the  time,  come  and  tell  me  about  your  plan.  You  may  come 
all  together,  or  in  groups,  or  each  by  himself ;  but  whatever 
you  say  you  want  to  do,  you  must  tell  the  length  of  time 
you  will  need  to  finish  it,  and  how  you  expect  to  do  it." 

We  thus  called  for  a  plan  as  definite  as  possible,  both  as 
to  time  and  materials.  It  was  understood  that  if  the  teacher 
could  not  be  convinced  that  the  plan  was  feasible,  or  that  it 
was  sufficiently  worth  while,  she  would  not  allow  it  to  begin. 

At  first  in  one  class  there  was  but  a  single  plan.  This 
started  with  three  boys,  eight  or  nine  years  of  age,  who 
said  they  wanted  to  print.  "  How  can  you  print  ?  "  the 
teacher  asked.  "  We  have  no  printing  press."  "  Oh,  yes  ; 
Harry  here  (the  real  names  are  not  used)  has  a  press  that 
his  father  gave  him  at  Christmas,  and  if  you  will  let  us, 
we'll  print  a  list  of  those  hard  words,  the  names  of  the 
days  of  the  week,  which  you  gave  the  class  to  spell.  We 
will  place  a  copy  on  the  desk  of  every  pupil,  and  you  will 
see  how  quickly  they  will  learn  them."  "  How  long  will  it 
take  you  ? "  the  teacher  inquired.  "  Three,  or  perhaps  four 
half-hours.  We  can  divide  up  the  work  so  that  we  think 
we  can  get  it  done  in  that  time." 

The  teacher  gave  the  period  from  11.30  to  12  on  Mon- 
day, Wednesday,  and  Friday.  They  chose  the  back  of  the 
room  to  work  in,  and  they  agreed  to  be  as  quiet  as  possible 
[104] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

so  as  not  to  disturb  the  rest  of  the  class,  which  meanwhile 
was  doing  such  work  as  the  boys  could  best  afford  to  miss. 
They  succeeded  admirably,  and  completed  their  work  within 
the  time  specified.  When  they  were  fairly  at  work  the  rest 
of  the  class  woke  up,  and  the  teacher  was  presented  with 
a  number  of  plans,  many  of  them  of  a  very  mushroom  char- 
acter, devised  mainly  to  escape  the  regular  work  of  that 
hour.  But  when  the  teacher  asked  in  detail  about  the 
plans,  how  long  they  would  take  to  finish,  etc.,  these  latter 
were  spontaneously  given  up  by  the  children,  or  enlarged  so 
that  they  became  more  practical.  After  the  printing  group 
had  finished  their  first  contract,  they  still  kept  together 
with  the  idea  of  becoming  class  printers  when  needed. 

In  the  other  third-grade  class  a  similar  group  was  started, 
which  soon  took  in  more  boys  who  wanted  to  join.  On  one 
occasion  the  teacher  found  that  they  were  not  doing  what 
they  had  planned  for  that  day.  She  asked  them  what  was 
the  matter,  and  pointed  out  that  if  they  did  not  do  what 
they  said  they  would,  they  would  have  to  go  back  to  their 
seats.  They  had  a  little  consultation  among  themselves, 
and  decided  that  there  were  too  many  in  the  group  for  the 
work  to  be  done,  and  that  they  interfered  with  one  another 
instead  of  helping.  The  group  was  thinned  by  its  own 
action,  and  the  work  was  finished  successfully.  This  group 
also  kept  on  for  some  time,  and  printed  a  number  of  things 
for  the  class.  Here  is  a  sample  of  their  work. 

Criticism  of  Report  of  Group  2  on  Beef  Tea. 
The  Group  did  not  know  all  they  should 
know  about  it.. 

It  was  worth  giving' 

[105] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Some  time  after  the  beginning  of  these  groups,  and  when 
nearly  the  whole  class  was  engaged  in  one  or  another  of 
them,  Professor  Albion  Small  paid  them  a  visit.  One  of 
the  boys  said  to  him  :  "  Look  at  those  girls  cooking.  Now 
I  don't  see  the  good  of  that.  But  this  work  is  just  the 
thing  for  me.  I  am  a  very  poor  speller,  and  every  word  I 
set  up  I  learn  to  spell."  This  group  interested  some  of  the 
families  from  which  the  boys  came,  for  they  were  never 
tired  of  talking  of  it  at  home.  One  of  the  fathers,  although 
a  working  man,  contributed  fonts  of  type  to  the  value  of 
$15.  Pieces  of  work  were  taken  home,  and  their  merits 
and  defects  fully  criticised.  These  printing  groups  had  a 
leader,  although  he  was  not  given  any  special  name. 

In  one  class  three  cooking  groups  were  started.  The 
first  of  these  was  started  to  cook — "just  to  eat,"  as  one  of 
the  members  stated.  It  was  at  first  composed  of  four  girls 
and  one  boy.  The  initial  preparations  required  a  good  deal 
of  management.  The  mothers  had  to  be  persuaded  to  give 
money  or  material.  One  girl  brought  an  old  gas  oven,  and 
another  a  heater  on  which  it  was  placed ;  also  a  table  had 
to  be  provided,  and  shelves  for  dishes.  An  attachment  had 
to  be  made  in  order  to  use  the  gas.  For  this  the  permission 
of  the  principal  of  the  school  was  required,  and  how  best  to 
approach  him  was  carefully  considered  by  the  group.  Books 
of  recipes  were  obtained,  and  although  the  reading  was 
difficult  for  third-grade  pupils,  much  reading  was  done  and 
the  merits  of  different  recipes  were  discussed.  A  cake  was 
finally  decided  upon.  I  was  called  in  as  a  guest  when  the 
cake  was  finished,  and  since  it  was  a  sacrament  of  friend- 
ship, I  did  my  best  to  eat  my  piece.  As  we  were  sitting 
around,  the  boy  said  between  his  mouthfuls,  "  It  seems  to 
[106] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

me  this  cake  ain't  as  good  as  it  ought  to  be."  "What's  the 
matter  with  it  ? "  was  the  rather  sharp  retort  of  the  little 
girl  who  was  the  leader  of  the  group.  The  boy,  who  was 
phlegmatic,  replied  without  a  ruffle,  "  Well,  maybe  it's  the 
butter ;  it  might  have  been  butterine."  "  You  bought  the 
butter,"  said  the  little  girl.  The  boy  said  nothing,  but  later 
he  went  to  the  grocery  store  where  he  had  bought  it,  and 
asked  if  it  was  butterine.  The  grocer,  probably  vexed,  said 
among  other  things,  "  If  you  don't  like  the  butter,  perhaps 
you'd  better  write  to  the  Health  Department."  When  the 
boy  came  back  to  school,  he  asked  the  teacher,  "  What  is 
the  Health  Department,  and  what  did  the  man  mean  by 
saying  I'd  better  write?"  The  teacher  told  him,  and  said 
that  perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  write. 

This  he  did,  and  got  back  a  sheaf  of  pamphlets.  Most 
of  them  were  too  difficult  for  him,  but  in  one  was  a  marked 
passage  telling  how  to  test  for  butterine  by  noting  the 
rate  of  melting.  The  whole  group  were  so  interested  in 
this  that  they  stopped  cooking  and  started  in  on  the  test 
for  butterine.  They  were  quite  successful,  and  they  used 
the  test  on  several  occasions  afterwards. 

By  this  time  they  had  decided  to  keep  all  the  recipes 
they  used,  and  each  made  a  cookbook  for  his  or  her  own 
use.  They  obtained  rubber  stamps  and  "  printed  "  these 
recipes,  and  although  it  became  somewhat  like  drudgery 
later  on,  they  insisted  that  no  member  of  the  group  should 
shirk  that  part  of  the  work.  The  experiment  with  the  but- 
terine was  also  printed  in  their  cookbooks.  This  is  the  way 
it  ran  (grams  were  used  because  the  children  could  get  no 
other  weights  in  the  school.  The  directions  called  simply 
for  equal  weights) : 

[  107  ] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

EXPERIMENT  WITH  BUTTERINE 

5  grams  butterine  melted  in  66  seconds. 
5  grams  butter  melted  in  60  seconds. 
5  grams  lard  melted  in  39  seconds. 
5  grams  of  tallow  melted  in  629  seconds. 

Test  for  butterine.  Butterine  smells  bad  when  it  melts  because  it 
has  tallow  and  lard  in  it. 

It  sputters  when  it  melts  because  it  has  tallow  in  it.  It  melts 
slower  than  butter. 

Meantime,  the  children  had  seen  in  a  window  a  man 
binding  books,  and  they  thought  that  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  have  their  cookbooks  bound.  They  visited  the 
bookbinder,  and  he  showed  them  how  to  stitch  the  leaves 
together  and  make  a  stiff  cover.  As  a  consequence  they 
all  bound  their  books,  an  art  which  was  copied  by  some 
of  the  other  groups  that  needed  it. 

After  several  experiments  in  cooking,  the  necessity 
of  having  their  plans  made  the  night  before,  so  that  every 
one  would  know  what  to  bring  for  the  next  day,  was  seen 
to  be  so  important  that  the  group  decided  to  have  a  chair- 
man, whose  duty  it  would  be  to  see  that  this  was  done. 
The  original  leader  was,  without  debate,  made  chairman. 
The  term  "  chairman  "  was  attractive,  and  was  copied  by 
some  of  the  other  groups,  but  in  a  few  cases,  after  being 
used,  it  was  discarded,  the  children  saying :  "  What  do  we 
want  a  chairman  for  ?  Every  one  knows  what  to  do,  any- 
way." In  the  cooking  group,  however,  the  chairman  was 
a  necessity. 

The  third  or  fourth  thing  that  they  wanted  to  cook  was 

Charlotte  Russe.    When  the  group  assembled  there  were 

no  lady  fingers.   These  were  to  have  been  brought  by  the 

boy.    Since  the  cooking  could  not  be  carried  on  that  day, 

[108] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

the  children  had  to  go  back  to  their  seats  and  do  some 
work  which  the  teacher  outlined  for  them.  They  were 
very  much  vexed  at  the  boy  and  talked  of  asking  him  to 
leave  the  group.  The  boy  said,  however,  that  the  fault 
was  not  his,  but  his  mother's.  His  mother  had  told  him 
that  she  was  tired  of  giving  him  money  all  the  time. 

The  group  then  went  to  the  teacher  about  the  mother 
problem.  They  wanted  her  to  write  to  the  mothers  and 
say  that  they  were  to  send  the  things  the  children  asked 
for.  The  teacher  did  not  look  at  the  question  in  this  light, 
and  said  she  did  not  think  that  she  could  write  to  the 
mothers,  since  the  group  work  was  their  own  affair  in 
which  they  must  depend  upon  themselves.  They  talked 
the  matter  over  again,  and  the  chairman  finally  said : 
"Well,  it  wasn't  Harold's  fault.  It  never  would  have 
happened  if  we  hadn't  let  Harold  bring  so  many  things 
that  cost  money.  For  all  the  things  we  have  cooked  he 
has  brought  more  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us.  What  we 
want  to  do  is  to  get  it  evened  up.  Then  those  who  can't 
bring  money  can  bring  eggs  or  butter  or  sugar,  but  no 
one  should  have  to  bring  more  than  his  share." 

They  perceived  very  clearly  what  they  wanted,  but  they 
did  not  see  the  means  by  which  it  was  to  be  accomplished. 
So  they  went  to  the  teacher  with  the  difficulty.  "  The  re- 
cipes," they  said,  "give  things  by  cupfuls  or  spoonfuls, 
while  these  same  things  are  bought  by  the  pound."  The 
teacher  pointed  out  to  them  that  they  could  get,  for  in- 
stance, a  pound  of  sugar  and  find  how  many  cupfuls  were 
in  it,  and  then  divide  the  cost  of  the  pound  by  the  num- 
ber of  cupfuls.  This  idea  they  grasped  at  once.  But  after 
they  had  got  the  cost  of  material  by  the  cupful,  they  did 
[109] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

not  see  how  it  could  be  divided  evenly  among  the  pupils. 
The  teacher  again  showed  them  the  simple  averaging  that 
was  necessary,  and  although  averaging  is  not  usually  in- 
troduced into  third  grades  and  they  were  never  shown 
again,  they  used  this  method  constantly  and  without  errors 
throughout  the  rest  of  their  work.  The  plan  of  the  chair- 
man to  meet  the  mother  problem  turned  out  to  be  quite 
successful. 

This  cooking  group,  as  it  was  first  formed,  was  very 
harmonious,  and  the  resistance  that  they  had  to  overcome 
was  almost  wholly  from  the  outside.  It  was  the  introduc- 
tion of  a  new  member  which  started  friction  and  gave  rise 
to  internal  resistances  which  for  a  time  hampered  the  suc- 
cess of  the  work.  A  new  pupil  appeared  in  the  grade,  and 
as  she  was  a  merry,  black-eyed  little  thing  with  attractive 
ways,  she  had  an  invitation  to  join  from  every  one  of  the 
groups  then  organized.  Of  all  these  invitations  she  ac- 
cepted the  one  from  the  group  that  were  cooking  "just 
to  eat." 

It  was  not  long  before  trouble  appeared.  Bessy  was 
constantly  forgetting  things.  The  chairman  mothered  her, 
pinning  slips  of  paper  on  her  coat  to  remind  her,  etc.,  all 
to  no  purpose.  She  would  lick  cream  off  spoons,  refuse  to 
wash  dishes,  etc.,  and,  since  the  group  were  now  in  a  little 
room  by  themselves,  would  act  noisily,  so  that  the  rest  of 
the  group  were  afraid  that  their  privileges  might  be  with- 
drawn. At  last  they  came  to  the  teacher  and  complained, 
asking  her  to  put  Bessy  out  of  the  group.  The  teacher 
said :  "  I  did  not  invite  her,  you  know,  to  join  your  group  ; 
but  I  am  very  willing  to  do  what  I  can.  Just  now,  how- 
ever, I  have  a  meeting,  and  you'll  have  to  wait  here  an 
[no] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

hour  till  I  return;  then  we  can  talk  it  all  over."  When 
she  came  back  the  children  were  gone,  but  on  her  desk 
was  a  note  asking  her  to  give  the  following  papers,  one 
from  each  member  of  the  group,  to  Bessy. 

I  think  Bessy  talks  too  much  and  I  think  she  plays  round  the  room 
too  much,  and  I  think  she  makes  too  much  noise.  Bessy  did  not 
bring  her  things  while  the  others  did  to  cock  with.  And  she  did  not 
stay  to  print  at  nights  after  school  only  once  or  twice.  She  would 
not  help  wash  the  dishes.  Then  we  told  her  we  would  put  her  out  if 
she  did  not  do  the  work,  and  we  thought  we  could  do  better  without 
her.  Then  she  brought  her  things  and  helped  wash  the  dishes,  but 
she  quarreled  so.  —  L. 

I  think  that  Bessy  ought  to  get  out  of  the  group  because  she 
wants  everything.  —  Harold. 

Bessy  plays  tag  and  she  says,  "  This  is  mine,  this  is  mine."  And 
she  is  always  fussing  all  the  time.  I  think  she  ought  to  be  put  out 
of  the  group.  —  M. 

I  think  we  could  get  along  better  in  the  group  without  Bessy  be- 
cause she  talks  too  much.  And  disturbs  us  too  much  and  we  can't  do 
so  much  work.  And  she  wants  to  do  all  the  work  and  no  one  else  to 
do  any  of  the  work ;  she  wants  to  do  all  the  cooking.  I  think  she 
should  be  put  out.  —  M. 

Bessy  plays  tag  when  we  are  cooking  and  she  is  too  fussy,  and  I 
think  she  talks  too  much  and  too  loud  and  she  is  too  noisy  and  she 
is  always  fussing  and  quarreling  with  the  other  children,  and  I  think 
she  ought  to  be  put  out  of  the  group.  —  B. 

I  think  Bessy  should  be  put  out  of  the  group  because  she  does  not 
help  in  printing  and  when  we  cook  she  quarrels  with  us.  —  S. 

The  papers  were  handed  to  Bessy  as  the  children  had 
requested.  After  reading  them  she  took  up  her  pen  and 
wrote  the  following  reply,  in  which  it  will  be  noted  the 
beginning  does  not  hang  very  well  with  the  admissions  at 
the  end. 

Well,  what  I  think  about  it.    I  have  always  brought  the  things 
they  told  me  to  bring  and  when  they  told  me  to  print  I  have  always 
[III] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

done  it.  And  to  the  other  school  we  would  talk  so  loud  and  I  am  so 
used  to  it.  If  they  put  me  back  again  I  would  do  lots  better  than  I 
did  before  and  I  would  bring  the  things  they  would  tell  me  to  and  I 
would  bring  everything  when  they  told  me  to  and  I  would  do 
everything. 

They  did  not,  however,  take  her  back,  nor  was  she 
ever  invited  into  any  other  group  while  she  remained 
in  the  school,  a  fact  which  did  not  seem  to  depress  her 
in  the  least.  Her  family  moved  again  before  the  end  of 
the  term,  and  Bessy  departed  with  them. 

The  teacher  asked  the  children  why  they  had  written 
the  papers.  The  chairman  replied  that  if  one  person  told 
Bessy  that  the  group  didn't  want  her  any  more,  she  would 
be  mad  with  that  person  (who  probably  would  have  been 
the  chairman),  and  more  than  that,  she  might  cry ;  while 
now  there  was  no  one  in  particular  to  be  mad  at,  and  if 
she  wanted  to  cry,  she  could  cry  by  herself. 

To  the  student  of  government  it  is  interesting  to  see 
how  the  children  went  to  the  teacher  when  it  was  a 
matter  probably  involving  force.  They  wished  to  use  the 
policeman  power  of  the  teacher  to  insure  Bessy's  removal. 
This,  in  case  of  any  refusal  on  her  part  to  leave,  would 
naturally  have  been  exercised.  In  the  same  way  a  clergy- 
man or  member  of  a  church  who  is  voted  out  is  compelled 
to  respect  this  decision  by  force  of  law  if  in  no  other  way. 
The  law,  however,  stands  outside  of  the  organization  itself. 

The  method  of  writing  on  serious  occasions  was  copied 
by  some  of  the  other  groups.  The  following  papers  from 
another  working  group  indicate  a  happier  termination. 

i.  Mildred  as  chairman.  Mildred  is  not  chairman  and  she  wants 
to  boss  everything.  I  like  her,  but  I  do  not  want  her  to  do  every- 
thing. —  L. 

[112] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

2.  What  we  think  about  Mildred.  I  think  that  Mildred  is  too  bossy. 
I  think  that  we  ought  to  write  to  her  and  tell  her  what  we  think.  She 
made  a  good  chairman  whether  she  bossed  us  or  not,  but  she  bossed 
us  too  much.  —  S. 

Mildred  replies  as  follows  : 

I  think  that  what  Sarah  and  Lila  said  was  all  right.  I  think  that 
we  will  get  along  all  right  now  and  a  good  deal  better.  I  think  that 
the  money  is  fixed.  I  think  that  we  are  going  to  have  a  better  group. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  Mildred  had  been  bossy.  We 
wondered  indeed  that  the  children  had  stood  it  so  long. 
After  this  for  a  week  Mildred  was  a  marvel  of  self-control, 
but  it  wore  on  her  and  she  persuaded  her  comrades  to  take 
turns  in  the  chairmanship.  Neither  of  them,  however,  had 
anything  like  the  natural  executive  ability  of  Mildred,  and 
they  did  not  succeed  so  well.  Nevertheless  Mildred  made 
no  comment.  When  it  was  her  turn  again,  the  others  asked 
her  to  be  chairman  all  the  time,  and  to  this  she  consented. 
She  at  times  broke  out  in  the  old  ways,  but  the  others  bore 
with  it,  and  she  herself  was  evidently  anxious  to  improve  in 
this  respect.  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  all  the  members 
of  the  group  had  in  this  experience  a  real  lesson  in  ethics  much 
more  practical  and  persuasive  than  any  formal  instruction. 

The  third  cooking  group  in  this  room  was  composed 
wholly  of  boys.  They  said  :  "  We  don't  want  to  cook  as 
these  girls  do.  But  if  any  one  should  be  sick  in  the  house, 
then  we  should  like  to  be  able  to  cook  something."  In  ac- 
cordance with  this,  the  first  thing  they  attempted  to  cook 
was  beef  tea.  They  inquired  into  everything  that  made  the 
beef  tea  nutritious.  They  were  told  that  it  should  not  look 
gray  when  it  was  done,  as  that  shows  that  the  albumen  in 
the  meat,  which  is  of  the  same  substance  as  the  white  of 
[US] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

an  egg,  has  become  hardened  and  cannot  be  digested  so 
quickly.  They  beat  out  of  pieces  of  the  meat  some  of  the 
juice  and  compared  it  with  the  white  of  an  egg  at  the 
teacher's  suggestion.  They  were  perfectly  free,  however, 
not  to  do  this  if  they  had  not  wished  to.  This  group  did 
not  last  so  long  as  the  others,  but  broke  up  voluntarily,  the 
boys  joining  other  groups  formed  for  other  purposes. 

During  the  year  this  class  formed  only  fourteen  groups. 
Among  them  were  a  photograph  group,  a  group  for  model- 
ing in  clay,  two  sewing  groups,  two  science  groups,  one 
printing  group,  and  two  groups  for  plays.  The  work  of 
these  groups  was  usually  carried  forward  to  a  considerable 
degree  of  success. 

The  photographic  group  was  composed  of  several  boys. 
They  fitted  up  a  closet  as  a  dark  room.  They  were  always 
looking  for  information  on  photography,  and  teachers  often 
brought  them  books  and  pamphlets.  To  some  extent  they 
were  photographers  for  the  class,  and  they  took  photographs 
of  some  of  the  plays  and  made  lantern  slides  for  them. 
After  they  had  been  at  work  for  several  weeks  the  rest  of 
the  class  wanted  them  to  tell  something  of  their  work.  The 
group  were  a  little  doubtful  about  the  capacity  of  the  others 
to  understand,  but  the  leader  thought  of  something  which 
he  believed  would  help  in  this  respect.  During  the  period 
for  group  work  he  fitted  up  his  camera  and  focused  it  on 
some  buildings  opposite.  He  then  called  out,  one  after  an- 
other, each  member  of  the  class,  made  him  put  his  head 
under  the  cloth,  and  asked  him,  "  What  do  you  see ?  "  "I 
see  the  buildings  upside  down."  "Do  you  want  to  know 
why  it's  like  that?  If  you  do,  we're  going  to  show  you 
next  time." 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

This  they  did,  explaining  how  the  rays  of  light  cross 
one  another  in  the  lens.  The  boys  of  this  group  kept  a 
record  of  their  work,  and,  as  with  the  cooking  group, 
bound  it  in  a  book.  One  of  the  boys  made  a  small  pin- 
hole  camera,  which,  without  any  lens,  took  some  very 
fair  photographs. 

One  of  the  plays  given  in  this  room  was  The  Sleeping 
Beauty.  There  was  no  dramatic  version  of  this  tale  that 
the  children  knew  of.  They  brought  to  school  all  the  differ- 
ent editions  of  the  story  they  could  find,  and  started  to 
turn  it  into  dramatic  form.  This  they  did  by  arranging  the 
cast  first.  "  You  may  be  the  prince,  and  you  the  queen," 
etc.  The  members  of  the  cast  then  began  to  extempo- 
rize the  words.  The  action  was  thus  first  thought  of.  As 
they  went  on  rehearsing,  different  members  of  the  group 
would  criticise  the  words  used,  saying,  "That  doesn't  sound 
right."  They  avoided  using  big  words  or  hard  phrases 
from  the  book.  They  divided  the  story  into  scenes,  made 
the  costumes,  and  strung  a  curtain  on  a  wire  in  front  of  the 
teacher's  desk.  They  used  the  blackboard  as  scenery,  draw- 
ing on  it  the  castle  seen  through  a  forest.  To  bring  this  in, 
a  scene  was  invented  which  consisted  of  the  prince  inquir- 
ing of  two  countrymen  his  way  to  the  castle.  It  was  not 
until  after  the  play  had  been  nearly  fixed  in  its  final  form 
that  they  began  to  write  it  down.  By  this  time  there 
were  changes  suggested  and  accepted  about  which  a  dispute 
would  sometimes  arise  afterwards,  but  one  of  the  main  rea- 
sons for  writing  was  pride  in  the  play.  One  of  the  boys  of 
this  group  was  very  desirous  of  learning  typewriting.  He 
brought  an  old  machine  to  school,  and,  among  other  things, 
made  a  typewritten  copy  of  the  play,  which  ran  as  follows: 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The    Play 

of 

THE    SLEEPING    BEAUTY 
Written  by 

M.  W. 
Given  by  Grade  36. 

Scene  I. 

ist  Fairy.  "  I  give  you  beauty." 

2nd  Fairy."  "  I  give  you  the  gift  of  dancing  beautifully." 

3rd  Fairy.  "  I  give  you  the  gift  of  being  a  good  cook." 

4th  Fairy.  "  I  give  you  the  gift  of  good  health." 

5th  Fairy.  "  I  give  you  the  gift  of  playing  well  on  the 

harp." 

Wicked  Fairy.  "Your   daughter  will  grow  to    be   15   years 

old  and  then  will  prick  her  hand  with  a 
spindle  and  die  of  the  wound." 
Good  Fairy.  "  She  shall  not  die.    She  shall  only  sleep  for 

a  hundred  years." 
(Fairies  go  out.) 

Scene  II. 

(The  princess  goes  into  the  tower  room.) 
Princess.  Marjorie  F.     "What  are  you  doing?" 
Old  woman.  Helen.         "  I  am  spinning,  my  dear." 
Princess.  "  Let  me  try." 

Old  woman.  "All  right,  my  dear." 

(Princess  pricks  her  hand.    She  falls  asleep.    All  the 
people  in  the  castle  fall  asleep.) 

Scene  III. 

(Prince  comes  near  the  castle.) 

Prince  to  a  man.  "  What  kind  of  castle  is  that  ?  " 

Old  man.  "  It  is  the  castle  of  a  monarch." 

2nd  man.  "It  is  an  enchanted  castle.    A  long  time  ago 

a  princess  fell  asleep  in  that  castle.    She 
was  to  sleep  for  a  hundred  years.    She  is 
sleeping  there  now." 
[116] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

(Prince  cuts  his  way  thru  the  hedge  of  thorns.  He  goes 
thru  the  castle,  sees  the  people  asleep.  He  goes 
into  tower  room,  sees  princess  asleep,  kneels  beside 
her  and  kisses  her  hand.) 

Scene  IIII. 

(The  princess  wakes  up.  Prince  leads  her  to  the  King 
and  Queen.  All  the  people  in  the  castle  come  and 
dance  around  the  King  and  Queen.) 

This  play  created  great  interest  in  the  homes,  and  the 
teacher  was  surprised  to  receive  many  requests  from  the 
mothers  and  other  members  of  the  family  for  permission  to 
see  it  when  it  was  presented.  This,  of  course,  was  granted, 
and  the  simplicity  of  the  play,  with  all  the  earmarks  of 
genuine  child  production,  was  thoroughly  appreciated  by 
the  audience. 

The  attitude  of  the  teachers  with  relation  to  this  play 
was  the  same  as  in  the  other  groups.  I  may  perhaps  call 
myself  one  of  the  teachers,  for  I  came  into  the  room  very 
frequently  while  the  children  were  rehearsing.  I  used  to 
think  over  what  I  had  seen  the  day  before,  and  see  if  I 
could  add  anything  or  offer  any  suggestion  that  the  chil- 
dren would  take  up.  Sometimes  the  children  would  say, 
"That's  right;  let's  do  it  that  way,"  but  at  other  times 
they  would  shake  their  heads  and  say  No.  It  was  at  first 
a  little  disconcerting  to  be  overruled,  especially  in  matters 
where  I  was  quite  sure  I  was  artistically  correct ;  but  I  was 
consoled  by  the  reflection  that  only  those  criticisms  which 
they  freely  and  voluntarily  accepted  were  the  ones  which 
entirely  suited  their  stage  of  development,  and  when  they 
rejected  modifications  of  my  proposing  I  saw  that  ethically, 
if  not  artistically,  they  were  right.  I  felt  that  they  were 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

standing  on  their  own  feet  with  perfect  honesty  of  convic- 
tion. Indeed,  until  they  refused  to  do  something  which  I 
had  recommended,  I  was  never  quite  sure  that  they  were 
really  independent.  I  knew,  too,  that  it  was  a  better  exam- 
ple, to  their  minds,  of  real  service  to  them  than  if  I  had  in- 
sisted on  my  proposals. 

To  come  in  contact  with  realities  in  a  child  is  the  most 
attractive  thing  about  teaching.  It  is  these  realities  which 
we  admire  in  children,  and  which  afford  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure to  parents  in  their  contact  with  them.  In  schools  of  the 
usual  sort  most  of  this  naive  originality  is  overruled  and 
crushed.  It  is  feared  that  it  may  lead  to  lack  of  discipline, 
and,  moreover,  where  the  initiative  flows  continuously  from 
the  teacher,  there  is  little  room  for  it,  and  it  comes  out 
accidentally,  if  at  all.  The  teacher  thus  robs  himself  of  a 
great  part  of  the  pleasure  of  his  work,  becomes  formal, 
"  teachery,"and  at  the  same  time  blinds  himself  to  the  real 
capacities  of  the  children. 

The  time  which  was  at  first  allowed  for  this  work  was, 
as  already  said,  three  half-hours  a  week,  but  after  a  short 
time  many  of  the  groups  began  to  say  to  the  teacher  that 
they  wished  they  could  have  more  time.  They  were  sure 
that  they  could  do  a  great  deal  better  if  the  time  were 
extended.  The  teacher  replied  that  she  was  not  sure  that 
every  group  could  use  the  time  well,  and  since  it  was  a 
matter  that  concerned  the  whole  class,  she  could  not  ex- 
tend the  time  unless  she  was  sure  of  this.  The  children 
used  part  of  their  group-work  time  to  discuss  this,  and  con- 
vinced the  teacher  that  all  would  be  benefited.  She  accord- 
ingly extended  the  time,  at  first  two  half-hour  periods,  and 
later  on,  after  further  requests,  to  three  quarters  of  an  hour 
[118] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

per  day.  This  contented  the  children  of  this  age  completely. 
Their  power  to  plan  seemed  to  be  entirely  used,  and  after 
this  they  never  asked  to  have  more  time.  The  teacher 
noticed  also  that  they  were  better  satisfied  to  be  carried 
along  by  her  in  work  of  her  planning  during  the  rest  of 
the  day  than  ever  they  had  been  before. 

From  my  experience  with  six  third-grade  classes  I  can 
say  that  no  class  ever  asked  for  more  time  than  an  hour 
a  day.  These  experiences  thus  show  with  a  certain  degree 
of  conclusiveness  that  there  is  a  distinct  limit  beyond  which 
the  children  are  not  able  to  go.  Whether  it  would  always 
be  best  to  go  so  far  as  this  limit  is  not  asserted.  In  the 
case  cited  it  seemed,  in  view  of  the  best  interests  and  total 
work  of  the  class,  the  wisest  thing  to  do.  The  teacher  con- 
stantly kept  in  mind  the  detail  problems  of  her  grade,  partic- 
ularly reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic.  Many  of  the  groups 
directly  promoted  interest  and  progress  in  the  routine  sub- 
jects, so  that  the  class  made  as  good  an  advance  along  these 
lines  as  any  class  had  previously  done.  Leaving  aside  the 
higher  concerns  of  character,  resourcefulness,  and  social  or- 
ganization, the  teacher  felt  that,  from  the  lower  standpoint 
of  subject-matter  alone,  the  time  allowed  was  amply  justified. 

In  this  class  there  were  four  children  who  were  never  in 
any  group.  They  did  not  desire  to  join  any,  and  the  teacher 
gave  them  work  to  do  by  themselves.  They  were  all  physic- 
ally rather  inert,  and  were  always  pleased  to  do  as  well  as 
they  could  anything  that  the  teacher  directed. 

In  the  other  class,  during  this  year,  instead  of  fourteen 
groups  there  were  thirty-eight  formed,  and  there  was  no 
child  who  was  not  in  one  or  more  of  these  groups.  This 
was  in  a  class  of  fifty  children,  so  that  the  percentage  of 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

leadership  was  high,  probably  over  sixty  per  cent,  —  if  we 
allow  for  some  who  were  leaders  of  more  than  one  group. 
When  such  a  result  is  possible  with  children  eight  or  nine 
years  old  the  outlook  for  democracy  is  good.  Each  child 
was  in  six  or  seven  groups  during  the  year,  and  there 
were  usually  about  seven  groups  running  at  the  same  time. 
The  teacher  did  not  find  these  too  many  to  keep  in  con- 
tact with,  although  there  was  some  difficulty  in  getting 
time  for  consultation  during  the  planning  of  each  group 
and  before  it  was  started.  The  teacher  pointed  out  this 
fact  to  the  children,  and  it  was  proposed  to  put  the  plans 
in  writing  so  that  the  teacher  could  read  them  at  some 
other  period.  There  was  the  advantage  of  definiteness  in 
the  writing,  although  children  of  this  age  only  wrote  the 
salient  points,  and  verbal  discussion  was  also  necessary. 

These  thirty-eight  groups  produced  twenty-one  plays 
and  playlike  representations  in  which  the  children  them- 
selves took  the  parts,  and  five  plays  in  which  dolls,  toy 
soldiers,  or  figures  made  out  of  paper  and  wood  were 
used  as  actors.  In  the  latter  class  there  were  three  bat- 
tles, The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  The  Battle  of  Manila,  and 
The  Battle  of  Thermopyla.  The  other  two  were  girls' 
plays,  —  representing  dolls  of  different  countries,  and  the 
story  of  Bopeep.  This  classic  was  played  with  a  box  for 
a  theater,  the  sheep  being  provided  with  tails  which  came 
off  easily.  In  the  former  class  there  was  only  one  battle, 
that  of  San  Juan  Hill ;  but  other  representations,  such  as 
The  Indian  and  the  Hunter,  The  Wild  West,  and  The  Fire- 
men, had  a  good  deal  of  the  fighting  element  in  them.  It 
may  be  pointed  out  that  this  element  in  a  play,  while 
it  probably  springs  from  the  fighting  instinct,  serves  as  a 

[120] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

radiation  and  control  for  it.  The  boy  gets  the  opportunity 
of  seeing  different  sides.  His  imagination  is  appealed  to 
rather  than  any  real  emotion  of  anger.  He  adopts  the 
heroic  attitude,  which  is  chivalrous  and  knightly  rather 
than  bloodthirsty.  The  emotions  of  injury  which  are  char- 
acteristic of  the  origin  of  war  are  really  dissipated. 

Besides  plays  and  representations,  there  were  groups 
for  clay  modeling,  for  reading  stories,  for  painting,  for 
sewing,  for  cooking,  for  the  observation  of  ants,  for  the 
study  of  birds,  for  printing,  for  woodcutting,  for  dancing, 
for  room  decoration,  for  making  a  "  Spring  book,"  for  the 
study  of  the  rules  of  baseball,  for  collecting  postage  stamps, 
for  running  a  post  office,  etc.  Other  plays  not  yet  men- 
tioned were  Snow  White,  Beauty  and  the  Beast,  Three 
Bears,  Dear  my  Soul,  Decoration  Day,  Six  Years  and  Six 
Fairies,  Shepherd  watching  his  Flocks,  Cinderella,  Red 
Riding  Hood,  Farmers,  Policemen,  Yachtsmen,  etc. 

In  the  latter  the  group  were  yachtsmen,  and  made  use 
of  the  blackboard,  on  which  they  drew  first  a  deck  and  a 
mast,  then,  under  orders  from  the  captain,  ran  up  rapidly 
in  chalk  a  huge  white  sail.  Each  was  at  his  post,  one  at 
the  compass,  another  at  the  wheel.  Land  was  sighted 
through  an  extemporized  pair  of  binoculars.  Sail  was 
lowered  and  the  anchor  cast,  after  which  the  sailors 
went  ashore. 

The  Firemen  was  divided  into  three  scenes.  First,  the  fire- 
men were  represented  in  their  everyday  routine,  —  getting 
up  in  the  morning,  athletic  exercise,  etc.  Next  a  fire  drill 
was  given.  Then  there  was  a  call  to  a  fire.  When  the  fire 
engine  and  hook  and  ladder  wagon  came  in,  —  represented 
by  small  express  wagons  with  ladders,  etc.,  on  them,  — the 

[121] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

fire  could  not  be  seen.  The  engine  was  attached,  however, 
with  real  rubber  hose  (from  the  garden)  to  a  big  hydrant 
drawn  on  the  board  at  the  side  of  the  room.  The  board  at 
the  front  of  the  room  was  covered  with  a  large  cloth.  This 
was  suddenly  twitched  down,  and  we  saw  a  house  in  flames. 
These  had  been  drawn  with  red  and  yellow  chalk.  The  fire- 
men got  to  work,  making  swishing  sounds  to  represent  the 
play  of  water.  Some  climbed  up  the  side  of  the  house  on 
ladders,  and  with  blackboard  erasers  put  out  the  flames  that 
were  pouring  from  the  windows.  Meanwhile  other  black- 
board erasers  which  had  been  put  up  to  represent  bricks 
were  tumbling  about  the  ears  of  the  heroes.  When  the  fire 
was  put  out  the  engine  was  detached,  some  remarks  were 
made  about  the  fire,  and  the  squad  retired  in  good  order. 

In  getting  up  this  play  nothing  was  written,  but  a  good 
deal  of  fresh  information  was  obtained.  The  boys  visited  a 
fire  station,  and  hearing  that  one  of  the  Normal  students 
was  a  daughter  of  a  fireman,  wrote  her  a  note,  sending  it 
through  the  post-office  group,  asking  if  she  would  come  to 
them  for  half  an  hour.  She  did  this,  and  found  that  they 
not  only  listened  eagerly  to  all  she  had  to  tell  them,  but 
cross-questioned  her  to  get  the  information  they  wanted. 
It  is  evident  that  a  method  which  leads  the  children  in- 
stead of  the  teacher  to  ask  questions,  although  neither 
Socratic  nor  Herbartian,  would  be  desirable  in  any  work 
of  the  school.  The  subject-matter,  too,  is  of  a  kind  to  give 
the  children  a  little  understanding  of  the  social  services  of 
the  city  in  which  they  live. 

Another  of  the  plays  which  was  not  written,  but  which 
was  original  and  carefully  planned  out,  was  The  Indian  and 
the  Hunter.  In  this  play  two  boys  who  were  the  only  actors, 

[122] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

as  well  as  the  authors,  simply  talked  the  matter  over,  and 
in  a  couple  of  days  were  ready  to  come  before  the  class. 
Their  presentation  ran  as  follows. 

All  the  blackboards  in  the  room  were  covered  with  chalk 
drawings  of  trees.  At  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  large  figure 
of  a  fox  which  had  been  painted  for  them  by  one  of  the 
practice  teachers.  At  the  beginning  of  the  play  they  pulled 
down  the  blinds  and  announced  to  the  audience  that  this 
was  the  woods.  The  hunter,  appropriately  dressed,  came 
in  at  one  of  the  doors  at  the  back  of  the  room,  and  walked 
through  among  the  desks,  which  represented  trees.  He  had 
his  gun  under  his  arm,  and  was  evidently  looking  for  game. 
He  occasionally  caught  sight  of  the  fox  and  raised  his  gun  ; 
but  it  either  seemed  too  far  or  got  away  from  him.  About 
this  time,  at  another  of  the  doors  in  the  back  of  the  room, 
an  Indian  was  seen  to  skulk  along,  hiding  behind  the  trees. 
After  a  little  while  the  hunter  came  across  a  toy  revolver 
lying  on  the  ground.  He  picked  it  up,  and,  speaking  for  the 
first  time,  said  to  himself  :  "  What's  this  ?  Some  one  has 
been  here."  He  pocketed  the  revolver,  went  on  cautiously, 
and  found  an  arrow.  "  An  Indian  has  been  here."  He  went 
on  much  more  carefully  than  before,  this  time  up  to  the 
teacher's  desk.  When  he  came  across  the  fox,  and  was  just 
about  to  shoot  it,  an  arrow  whizzed  by  his  ear.  He  turned 
around,  and  saw  immediately  advancing  upon  him  the  In- 
dian with  upraised  club  (a  baseball  bat).  He  let  fly  the  dis- 
charge (a  piece  of  chalk)  intended  for  the  fox,  directly  at  the 
Indian,  who  fell  heavily  to  the  ground.  This  was  the  end  of 
the  play,  but  in  a  little  while  the  Indian  got  up  and  walked 
away.  The  rest  of  the  children  criticised  this,  asking  whether 
or  not  the  Indian  was  supposed  to  come  to  life  again. 
[123] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The  rumor  of  this  play  reached  the  children  of  the  first 
grade,  who  sent  up  a  request  that  it  might  be  repeated  for 
their  benefit.  The  boy  who  played  the  Indian  then  came 
and  told  the  teacher  that  he  thought  they  should  change 
the  play  somewhat,  since  they  were  going  to  give  it  to  first- 
grade  pupils.  "  No  doubt  Indians  had  to  be  killed,"  said  he, 
"  but  first-graders  would  not  be  able  to  understand  that " ; 
and  he  proposed  therefore  to  adapt  this  portion  of  the  play 
to  their  moral  perceptions.  The  play  was  thus  amended  by 
making  the  hunter  merely  wound  the  Indian,  and  afterwards 
come  up  and  dress  his  wound,  after  which  they  shook  hands 
and  went  home  together. 

The  moral  and  social  effect  of  the  organization  of  the 
groups,  rather  than  the  artistic  perfection  of  the  plays,  is 
of  course  the  first  concern.  In  illustration  of  some  of  the 
effects  on  individual  character,  one  or  two  experiences  may 
be  cited.  There  was  a  boy  of  great  imagination,  who  had 
no  difficulty  in  projecting  any  number  of  ideas,  but  who 
found  carrying  them  out  quite  another  matter.  In  the 
ordinary  class-room  work  under  the  teacher  his  hand  was 
always  up,  whether  his  answer  was  very  much  to  the  point 
or  not.  No  ignoring  or  snubbing  made  any  difference.  It 
was  felt  by  the  teachers  that  he  was  given  to  "  showing  off." 
When  self-organized  group  work  started  he  was  the  origi- 
nator of  several  groups.  He  left  some  of  them,  and  was 
put  out  of  others  without  ceremony.  The  formula  in  one 
group  was,  *  Jack,  you're  fired  ;  you  talk  too  much  and  do 
nothing."  To  this  he  did  not  even  answer,  but  turned  on 
his  heel  and  went  off.  At  last  he  could  get  no  one  to  join 
him  in  anything  that  he  proposed,  nor  was  he  included  in 
any  other  group.  After  a  while  he  cultivated  the  friendship 
[124] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

of  a  rather  awkward  and  quiet  boy  who  had  just  come  to 
the  school.  It  turned  out  that  he  was  impressing  him  with 
the  merits  of  a  grand  play  that  he  had  in  his  mind.  The 
steadiness  of  this  boy  was  sufficient  to  enable  them  in  com- 
bination to  get  others,  and  the  play  was  finally  started. 

Jack  always  hated  to  write.  He  would  say  he  knew  the 
play  and  didn't  need  to  put  it  down.  "  Yes,  you  do,"  his 
friend  would  say  ;  "  because  first  you  tell  us  one  thing  and 
then  you  tell  us  another."  The  result  was  that  he  did  write, 
quite  elaborately,  first  the  story  of  the  play  and  afterwards 
the  dramatized  version.  In  the  play,  between  the  two  parts, 
came  a  full  representation  of  the  parade.  The  following  is 
the  story  form  : 

PART  i 

Decoration  Day.  It  was  in  spring.  One  day  the  farmer  came  out 
of  the  barn  and  said  to  Bub  his  little  boy  about  eight  years  old,  help 
me  with  the  horse  because  I  am  in  a  hurry  for  we  are  going  to  the 
parade  this  morning?  The  boy  said,  "All  write  pa,"  and  he  hitched 
the  horse  to  the  carriage.  "  May  we  take  our  dog  Bruno  with  us  he 
can  sit  on  my  lap."  "  No,  we  will  leave  him  at  home  for  I  heard  that 
some  thieves  got  in  Mr.  Smith's  house  acrost  the  rood  and  we  better 
leave  him  at  home  to  watch  the  house."  After  a  little  bit  the  mother 
of  the  boy  calls  him  to  come  in  and  get  cleaned  up  ready  for  the 
parade,  the  boy  goes  whistling  to  the  house  Bruno  beging  (beginning) 
to  whine  "  Nice  dog,  Good  doggy  "  cried  Bub.  Then  all  the  people 
came  out  and  soon  they  were  spinning  down  the  road.  There  was  a 
shout  and  down  the  road  came  the  procession.  They  went  ridding 
around  awhile  until  it  was  about  8  o'clock,  then  they  started  home. 

PART  2 

When  they  got  home  they  heard  the  dog  barking.  Then  they  saw 
a  man  with  a  lantern  run  past  the  door.  Mr.  Blake  cried  "  Thieves  ! 
they  wont  be  there  very  long  any  how.  Bub  get  my  revolver  out  in 
the  barn."  There  was  very  much  noise  and  shouting.  One  thief  was 
wounded  and  the  other  ascaped.  The  people  were  very  restless  that 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

night.  Mr.  Blake  was  more  restless  than  the  other  people  In  the 
night.  Bub  called  his  mother  and  said  "  I  think  I  hear  that  burglar." 
She  said  "  Your  only  dreaming  go  to  sleep." 

School  will  be  let  out  while  the  people  are  sleeping. 

There  will  be  a  boy  with  a  blanket  over  him  for  bruno.  Mr. 
Blake  is  the  father  of  bub.  Some  one  will  explain  about  the  house 
and  the  other  things. 

In  presenting  the  play  made  from  this  story  Jack 
managed  it  very  well.  Later  the  teachers  heard  an  in- 
formal conversation  which  ran  as  follows  :  "  Say,  Jack's 
play  was  all  right.  He's  been  fired  from  the  group  so 
often  the  boys  didn't  think  he'd  have  control  enough." 

F said :  "  Yes,  you  think  it  was  fine ;  but  he  didn't 

have  control  as  much  as  you  think.  He'd  say,  f  Bub,  go 
and  clean  up,'  and  we  didn't  know  where  to  go."  "  Never 
you  mind,"  said  G ,  "  it  was  the  best  play  we  had." 

The  effect  of  this  experience  on  Jack  was  very  marked  ; 
both  the  neglect  he  suffered  at  first,  and  his  later  reestab- 
lishment  in  the  esteem  and  honor  of  the  class,  were  most 
salutary.  His  father  spoke  of  it  specially  to  the  teacher, 
and  said  it  had  affected  his  home  conduct  also.  To  any 
one  who  sees  that  moral  conduct  is  but  the  subjective  side 
of  service  to  society,  these  results  will  not  appear  at  all 
strange.  The  ugly  outcome  of  free  action  which  was  not 
responsible  to  any  one  whose  opinion  he  deeply  cared  for, 
had  been  changed  to  conduct  in  which  he  felt  that  he  was 
responsible  to  the  public  opinion  of  his  peers,  —  a  demo- 
cratic situation  in  which  honor  feelings  flow  between  those 
on  a  similar  social  level. 

As  is  easily  seen,  the  social  force  in  each  little  group 
ran  out  readily  to  the  whole  class,  and  tended  to  extend 
[126] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

itself  to  the  rest  of  the  school  and  to  the  home.  Although 
there  was  not  always  a  direct  recognition  on  the  part  of 
each  group  that  they  were  working  for  the  whole  class, 
this  was  usually  felt.  In  the  plays  it  was  intended  from 
the  beginning  that  they  were  to  be  offered  to  the  class. 
When  the  first  play  was  judged  by  the  group  running  it 
to  be  as  good  as  they  could  make  it,  the  question  of  pre- 
senting ft  to  the  class  was  brought  before  the  teacher. 
She  said  that  she  could  not  give  time  on  the  programme 
beyond  what  she  had  already  given  for  group  work,  and 
therefore  they  would  need  to  ask  the  rest  of  the  class 
whether  they  wanted  to  give  up  the  various  things  they 
were  doing  in  order  to  hear  the  play.  The  group  went 
before  the  class  and  told  them  that  the  play  would  take 
but  ten  minutes,  and  asked  them  if  they  cared  to  hear  it 
enough  to  give  up  their  own  work.  This  was  done,  and 
some  time  was  added  on  to  discuss  the  play  and  ask 
questions  about  it. 

The  result  of  other  work  besides  plays  was  also  brought 
before  the  class.  Some  of  the  children  who  were  not  in  the 
printing  group  were  interested  in  the  subject,  and  they 
asked  the  group  to  come  before  the  class  and  explain  the 
process  to  them.  A  number  of  questions  were  asked, 
among  which  the  teacher  wrote  down  twenty-seven. 

1.  Who  printed  first,  or  did  people  always  print? 

2.  Who  printed  the  first  book  ? 

3.  How  are  different  presses  worked  ? 

4.  What  force  is  used  to  make  large  presses  work  ? 

5.  Show  us  how  you  work  your  little  press. 

6.  How  are  printing  presses  made  ? 

7-  Why  isn't  printed  stuff  sold  right  away  instead  of  being  stored  in 
rooms  as  I've  seen  it  ? 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

8.  What  different-colored  inks  do  printers  use,  and  what  are  they 

made  of? 
g.  Do  you  use  different-colored  inks  ? 

10.  Did  you  print  Alice's  story  (written  by  one  of  the  children)  ? 

11.  How  do  Chinese  people  print? 

1 2.  Can  you  use  the  little  printing  press  as  well  as  the  big  ones  in  the 

store  ?    I  want  to  buy  one. 

13.  What  different  types  are  used? 

14.  Are  they  all  made  of  the  same  stuff? 

15.  Why  are  rubber  type,  lead  type,  and  steel  type  all  used? 

1 6.  Why  can't  you  print  with  a  pen  ? 

17.  What  is  the  cost  of  those  pages  printed  with  the  little  types? 

1 8.  How  did  they  discover  the  printing  press? 

19.  Did  the  Indians  use  a  press  or  did  they  print? 

20.  Show  us  how  to  set  type. 

21.  Why  do  they  make  so  many  copies  of  books? 

22.  How  is  the  ink  put  on  the  pad  ? 

23.  How  much  would  a  thousand  leaflets  cost  ? 

24.  How  are  newspapers  like  the  Tribune  printed  ? 

25.  Is  printing  done  just  the  same  in  other  countries  ? 

26.  What  was  the  cost  of  the  first  book  printed  ? 

27.  How  are  different  types  made  ? 

The  post-office  group  was  organized  for  the  use  of  the 
whole  class.  The  group  arranged  the  room  in  streets,  which 
were  the  aisles  between  the  seats,  and  put  numbers  on  every 
side  to  show  the  house  at  which  each  one  lived.  They  asked 
the  teacher  to  give  some  time  for  every  one  to  write  letters, 
and  they  showed  the  class  how  to  address  the  letters  properly, 
pointing  out  that  those  not  properly  addressed  would  be  put 
in  the  dead-letter  office.  At  another  time  they  showed  the 
class  how  to  write  letters  and  what  punctuation  marks  to 
use,  and  got  permission  to  have  the  letters  opened  at  the 
post  office  to  see  if  they  were  properly  written.  The  group 
provided  the  members  of  the  class  with  envelopes,  and  later 
on  with  stamps  which  they  made.  Before  this  was  done 
[128] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

stamps  were  drawn  on  the  envelopes  by  each  pupil.  There 
were,  of  course,  regular  times  for  collection  and  delivery. 
One  of  these  letters  is  given  below,  and  is  interesting  as 
showing  the  responsibility  that  the  boy  was  feeling  for  the 
group  of  which  he  was  leader.  It  runs  as  follows  : 

April  2,  1900. 

Chicago,  Illinois. 
Dear  Ralph, 

I  am  so  sorry  that  I  cannot  come  to  school.   I  hope  you  will  read 
about  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  for  group  work  until  I  come. 

When  the  post-office  group  came  before  the  whole  class, 
they  had  prepared  themselves  for  questions  by  a  visit  to  the 
substation  near  by,  and  what  they  said  proved  to  be  so  in- 
teresting that  there  were  a  great  many  questions  asked  or 
statements  made  by  different  members  of  the  class.  The 
teacher  wrote  down  thirty-two  of  them. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  we  asked  the  children  to  write 
out  a  paper  giving  a  list  of  the  groups  they  had  been  in, 
and  to  say  which  of  these  they  enjoyed  most  and  which 
they  thought  the  best.  Here  is  a  paper  from  a  girl. 

1.  Beauty  and  the  Beast. 

2.  Reading  group. 

3.  Sleeping  Beauty. 

4.  Sewing. 

5.  Snow  White. 

6.  Three  Bears. 

The  group  I  enjoyed  most  being  in  was  the  Three  Bears  group. 
The  thing  given  to  the  room  that  I   thought  was  the  best  was 
Cinderella. 

Here  is  one  from  a  boy.    ' 

1.  I  have  been  in  the  printing  group. 

2.  Farmer  group. 

3.  Firemen  group. 

[I29] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

4.  Wild  West  group. 

5.  Battle  of  San  Juan  Hill  group. 

6.  Shepherd  watching  his  Flocks. 

7.  Arts  group. 

8.  Reading  group. 

The  group  I  enjoyed  most  being  in  was  the  Firemen  group.  The 
thing  given  to  the  room  that  was  best  was  the  Decoration  Day  play. 

Some  of  the  pupils  were  in  as  many  as  fifteen  different 
groups  during  the  year.  Of  course  these  groups  did  not 
last  so  long  as  those  referred  to  in  the  above  paper.  There 
was  thus  a  variety  of  experience,  suitable  for  young  children, 
and  undue  specialism  was  avoided.  The  whole  class,  more- 
over, was  interested  in  everything  done  by  each  group. 

During  the  year  the  same  kind  of  work  was  introduced 
into  the  fourth  grade,  and  here  the  pupils,  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  year,  took  possession  of  the  large  attic  in  the 
school  and  formed  a  village,  with  houses  and  workshops 
in  different  parts.  There  was  a  townhall  where  the  class 
met  together  as  a  whole.  The  different  houses  were  fur- 
nished with  wall  paper,  chairs,  flowers,  etc.  Dishes  were 
modeled  in  clay.  One  boy  set  up  a  battery  of  his  own, 
made  to  run  a  bell  as  a  signal  to  the  villagers.  Calling  was 
conducted  formally,  calling  cards  were  printed,  and  a  num- 
ber of  different  activities  were  instituted. 


[130] 


CHAPTER  VII 

SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK  (continued) 

During  the  year  1901-1902  similar  work  was  started  in 
the  Training  School  of  the  Colorado  State  Normal  School. 
In  the  third  and  fourth  grades  one  of  the  first  groups  formed 
consisted  of  two  boys.  One  of  these  spoke  to  the  teacher 
and  told  her  that  he  wished  to  make  a  hay  stacker.  He  ex- 
plained how  he  intended  to  make  it,  and  said  that  he  had 
another  boy  to  help  him.  The  teacher  gave  him  a  piece  of 
paper  so  that  he  could  draw  out  his  plan,  which  he  did. 
The  two  boys  finished  the  work  in  about  six  weeks,  having 
at  the  beginning  of  this  period  only  one  hour  a  week  in 
which  to  work.  During  the  work  there  was  no  hitch  or 
uncertainty  of  procedure. 

The  next  important  plan  in  the  same  grade  was  offered 
by  a  boy  who  wished  to  construct  a  two-room  cottage. 
The  plan  of  this  was  brought  in  at  the  beginning,  and 
showed  a  full  comprehension  of  what  was  needed.  He 
had  selected  four  or  five  boys  to  help  him.  The  principal 
difficulty  was  one  of  cost.  He  estimated,  on  the  basis  of 
measurement  of  lumber,  nails,  etc.,  and  prices  obtained  at 
his  own  solicitation  from  dealers,  that  the  cottage  would 
cost  $23.  There  was  some  talk  of  raising  this  money 
among  the  pupils,  but  only  a  very  small  amount  was  forth- 
coming. The  idea  from  the  beginning  had  been  that  the 
cottage  could  be  used  by  all  the  members  of  the  class  as 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

a  playhouse,  or  even  for  some  recitations.  The  group  were 
asked  to  go  over  the  calculations  carefully  and  see  if  they 
could  reduce  the  proportions  of  the  house  so  as  to  make 
it  less  expensive.  They  changed  it  to  a  small,  one-room 
house  with  a  shingled  roof,  a  door,  a  large  window,  and 
a  small  window  at  the  back.  The  cost  of  all  the  material 
was  obtained  from  dealers.  About  $10  was  found  to  be 
the  very  lowest  figure. 

At  this  point  the  teacher  obtained  a  grant  of  $8  from 
the  school,  to  be  given  to  the  class  on  the  condition  that 
nothing  further  would  be  asked  for  that  year.  This  changed 
the  conditions  somewhat,  and  since  the  whole  class  was 
concerned,  the  teacher  described  this  offer  to  them,  giving 
them  to  understand  that  the  money  could  be  used,  if  they 
chose,  in  other  ways  than  the  building  of  a  house.  Repre- 
sentatives of  the  building  group  spoke  on  the  advantages 
of  having  a  house,  but  some  wished  to  buy  a  cabinet  and 
others  wished  to  have  an  aquarium  with  goldfish.  The 
teacher  even  went  so  far  as  to  suggest  that  they  could  buy 
candy.  They  calculated  the  amount  of  candy  that  would 
come  to  each  at  the  teacher's  suggestion,  but  the  proposal, 
though  taken  seriously,  was  not  accepted,  and  indeed  never 
gained  any  adherents.  The  building  group  proposed  that  if 
the  house  were  built,  other  groups  could  be  formed  to  make 
various  things  that  would  be  needed  to  furnish  it.  Chairs, 
beds,  and  tables  were  necessary.  The  girls,  they  thought, 
might  make  curtains  and  bed  clothing.  The  house,  too, 
ought  to  be  papered  and  a  garden  laid  out.  The  small 
window  ought  to  be  provided  with  a  stained-glass  design 
(done  in  paper).  No  decision,  however,  was  reached  that 
day.  The  day  following  further  influence  had  evidently  been 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

exercised  by  the  group,  for  all  the  class  were  unanimous  in 
wishing  to  devote  the  money  to  the  building  of  the  house, 
and  to  supply  what  additional  money  would  be  needed. 

In  carrying  this  out  there  were  many  difficulties  to  over- 
come, and  many  mistakes  were  made.  The  time  estimated 
to  complete  the  house  was  found  to  be  altogether  too  short, 
so  that  the  work  was  stopped  during  part  of  the  winter ; 
but  the  house  was  finally  finished,  and  stood  resplendent  in 
its  thick  coats  of  green  and  white  paint.  Meanwhile  chairs, 
a  table,  and  other  furnishings  had  been  made,  the  stained- 
glass  window  put  in,  and  the  garden  laid  out,  to  be  planted 
and  irrigated.  It  was  viewed  with  pride  and  affection.  The 
faults  in  measurement  of  beams  and  laying  of  the  shingles 
were  pointed  out  by  the  pupils,  but  these  defects,  which 
were  not  at  all  apparent  to  an  unskilled  eye,  did  not  pre- 
vent the  satisfaction  of  every  one  concerned. 

It  is  evident  that  in  work  of  this  kind  preliminary  plan- 
ning is  of  the  greatest  importance.  It  is  at  this  stage  that 
the  mental  resources  of  the  whole  group  should  be  com- 
pletely drawn  out.  This  is  the  period  needing  the  most 
thorough  discussion.  The  image  or  impulse,  as  it  exists  in 
the  mind  of  one  pupil,  is  not  enough.  This  must  be  ex- 
pressed clearly  so  that  all  the  other  pupils  understand  it, 
and  so  that  they  can  get  an  opportunity  to  modify  it  or  to 
object  to  it  entirely.  The  teacher,  too,  since  he  must  give 
his  consent  to  the  plan,  may  need  to  be  persuaded.  He  can 
offer  advice  or  make  suggestions  which  have  more  effect 
now  than  at  any  other  time.  This,  indeed,  must  be  done 
carefully  if  at  all,  as  there  is  the  danger  that  the  children 
will  be  attracted  to  some  brilliant  proposal  which  they  do 
not  understand  sufficiently  to  carry  out.  These  suggestions 
[133] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

may  be  like  the  grain  which  fell  by  the  wayside  and  grew 
well  at  first,  but  withered  away  because  it  had  not  sufficient 
depth  of  earth. 

If  the  teacher  makes  what  he  thinks  are  good  sugges- 
tions, he  should  see  to  it  that  they  are  taken  as  nothing 
more  than  suggestions,  and  that  the  children  realize  their 
own  responsibility.  To  succeed  in  this  he  will  need  to  listen 
carefully,  and  perhaps  expand  the  objections  that  may  be 
offered  to  his  suggestions ;  or  he  may  need  to  offer  seem- 
ingly crushing  objections  to  his  own  ideas,  and  let  the  chil- 
dren defend  the  original  proposals  if  they  are  able  or  care 
to  do  so.  If  the  teacher  fails  to  do  this,  he  will  find  that 
he  really  has  the  group  on  his  hands,  —  that  his  idea  is  not 
the  fertile,  reproductive  thing  springing  up  in  other  minds 
that  he  would  like  to  have  it,  and  that  the  original  leader 
of  the  group  will  have  been  practically  displaced  and  reduced 
to  the  position  of  a  lieutenant.  It  is  the  democratic  respon- 
sibility to  one's  own  ideals  and  to  others  on  the  same  social 
level,  and  not  responsibility  to  the  teacher,  which  this  phase 
of  work  aims  to  educate. 

The  preliminary  planning  should  be  pushed  as  far  as 
possible,  and  made  as  definite  as  the  mental  character  of 
the  children  and  the  nature  of  the  project  in  hand  will 
permit.  In  this  respect  the  building  of  a  house,  for  ex- 
ample, will  be  quite  different  from  the  making  of  a  play. 
The  planning  is  itself  often  something  which  requires 
concrete  illustration  and  preliminary  work  in  its  produc- 
tion. This  was  true  of  the  drawings  and  the  estimates 
of  the  cost  of  the  house  described  above,  and  the  small 
group  of  boys  worked  on  these  for  some  days.  If  the 
plans  had  never  been  realized  in  the  actual  building  of 
[134] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

the  house,  the  time  spent  on  their  production  would  itself 
have  been  quite  worth  while. 

This  would  not  be  simply  for  the  reason  that  it  could  be 
regarded  under  the  head  of  what  teachers  call  "an  educa- 
tive exercise."  Types  of  this  latter  are  to  be  found  plenti- 
fully in  all  kinds  of  text-books.  Arithmetics,  for  instance, 
are  rilled  with  such  exercises.  Pupils  are  asked  to  work 
out  the  calculations  for  papering  a  room,  for  mowing  a  field, 
for  catching  a  hare,  and  what  not,  until  they  lose  all  sense 
of  the  reality  of  these  operations.  It  is  supposed  that 
"drill,"  consisting  of  repeating  these  disjecta  membra  of 
real  arithmetic,  will  produce  facility.  Meanwhile  the  in- 
sight required  in  applying  processes  is  usually  left  out  of 
consideration,  and  the  child  is  not  trained  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion or  frame  the  problem  which  is  essential  to  understand- 
ing. One  real  problem,  where  calculation  is  applied  to  get 
at  results  that  are  desired  by  the  pupils,  is  worth  hundreds 
of  this  false,  wasteful,  and  artificial  kind.  We  have  already 
seen  this  in  the  averaging  of  the  cooking  group,  and  the 
preparation  of  plans  and  estimates  by  the  boys  of  the  house 
group  is  another  similar  case.  This  planning,  even  if  the 
building  of  the  house  had  been  given  up,  was  not  a  mere 
exercise.  It  was  undertaken  to  find  out  whether  the  house 
could  be  built  or  not,  and  if  it  had  turned  out  that  this 
would  have  been  impossible,  the  calculations  would  still 
have  served  a  useful  purpose  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
children  themselves.  On  no  other  conditions  could  they 
be  regarded  as  yielding  any  satisfactory  social  service. 

The  main  point  in  the  preliminary  planning  is  to  decide 
whether  the  project  shall  go  on  or  not.  It  is  well  to  realize 
that  not  every  plan  or  impulse  in  life  needs  to  be  executed, 
[135] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

and  in  self-organized  group  work  the  children  have  before 
them  the  choice  of  aims,  as  well  as  the  selection  of  means. 
Before  their  aims  have  been  thoroughly  fixed  is  the  best 
time  for  attempts  to  divert  them  from  their  purpose.  To 
give  up  a  plan  at  the  beginning  may  be  wise,  later  on  it 
may  be  a  desertion.  It  is  also  a  favorable  time  for  delibera- 
tion and  inhibition.  It  is  a  time  for  enthusiasm,  but  it  is 
well  to  delay  somewhat,  so  as  to  be  sure  that  the  enthu- 
siasm is  well  grounded  and  has  sufficient  carrying  power. 
With  older  pupils  it  would  be  well  to  inquire  as  to  the  pos- 
sibilities of  members  wishing  to  leave  the  group  later  on, 
or  being  forced  to  do  so  by  external  circumstances.  Some 
protection  surely  ought  to  be  given  to  the  rights  of  contract, 
and  this  is  a  function  which  would  naturally  be  exercised 
by  the  state  or  governmental  power  of  the  teacher.  The 
possibility  of  failure  at  every  stage  ought  to  be  taken  into 
account  as  far  as  possible. 

In  doing  this,  however,  it  is  the  experience  of  the  chil- 
dren and  not  of  the  teacher  which  is  the  main  consideration. 
It  is  to  be  expected  that  some  plans  will  fail  and  groups 
disband  long  before  they  have  finished  what  they  intended 
to  do.  And  this  may  be  at  unexpected  points,  or  in  face 
of  difficulties  that  have  been  previously  thought  of.  There 
must  be  an  element  of  risk  if  the  work  is  to  be  really  or- 
ganized by  the  children.  "  The  best  laid  plans  o'  mice  and 
men  gang  aft  a'  gley." 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  a  higher  percentage  of  fail- 
ures is  to  be  expected,  and  the  teacher  may  wisely  enough 
approve  for  trial  more  doubtful  schemes  at  this  time  than 
later  on.  After  some  experience  of  this  kind  has  been  at- 
tained both  teacher  and  children  will  have  actual  cases  to 
[136] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

point  to,  where  it  will  be  found  that  not  only  the  plans 
themselves,  but  the  character  and  disposition  of  the  indi- 
viduals back  of  them,  as  in  Jack's  case,  are  exceedingly 
important.  There  ought  to  be  opportunity  for  groups  to 
disband  as  well  as  for  individuals  to  leave  groups.  Usually 
this  latter  can  be  arranged  without  serious  disadvantage  to 
the  group.  An  individual  who  gets  among  his  comrades 
the  reputation  of  being  flighty,  brings  upon  himself  the 
natural  consequences,  as  did  Jack.  In  the  preliminary  plan- 
ning the  teacher,  in  case  he  suspects  the  capacity  of  any 
one,  should  raise  the  question  and  see  that  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  group  appreciate  the  responsibility  they  are 
taking  in  having  him  for  a  member.  This  stimulates 
loyalty  to  one  another  and  promotes  honor  feelings  among 
the  group. 

Where  the  group  bond  is  weak,  individuals  are  disposed 
to  be  vacillating.  In  proportion  as  a  feeling  of  union  with 
or  service  to  some  one  else  comes  in,  responsibility  in- 
creases. Even  when  plans  were  brought  forward  by  single 
individuals,  they  usually  concealed  or  took  on  later  some 
social  significance.  I  may  illustrate  this  by  a  single  case, 
in  which  there  was  also  a  large  element  of  failure.  A  fifth- 
grade  boy,  rather  belated  in  his  development,  wished  to  go 
with  a  number  of  others  who  were  modeling  in  clay.  He 
was  not,  however,  connected  with  them  in  any  organized 
plan.  His  idea  of  what  he  wanted  to  do  was  proportionately 
indefinite,  and  at  first  he  looked  forward  to  but  half  an 
hour.  He  seemed  to  care  very  little  about  what  he  was 
going  to  model,  but  mentioned  a  definite  object,  perhaps 
more  to  get  an  opportunity  of  handling  the  clay  than  for 
any  other  reason. 

[137] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

As  he  was  working,  I  came  up  to  him  and  asked  him  if 
I  could  help  him  in  any  way.  The  fact  that  he  had  no 
particular  problem  in  mind  led  to  a  vague  answer.  Now  it 
is  plain,  as  already  indicated,  that  if  a  plan  has  not  sufficient 
life  in  it  to  stand  a  struggle  for  existence  with  other  plans 
that  may  come  easily  to  mind,  it  is  not  sufficiently  intense 
to  be  worth  while.  A  resolution  that  cannot  resist  a  certain 
amount  of  temptation  is  not  very  well  adapted  for  a  hardy 
life,  nor  is  it  likely  to  be  well  carried  out.  It  is  better  that 
such  weaknesses  be  discovered  at  an  early  stage,  if  possible. 
I  accordingly  set  myself  to  see  if,  by  using  a  moderate 
stimulus,  I  could  tempt  the  boy  to  desert  his  plan. 

I  think  a  cup  or  a  vase  was  the  object  he  was  modeling. 
I  said  to  him  :  "  What's  the  good  of  making  a  cup  ?  You 
have  plenty  of  them  at  home,  haven't  you  ?  "  I  said  this, 
of  course,  somewhat  tentatively,  so  as  not  to  suggest  the 
slightest  feeling  of  authority  on  my  part.  The  boy  at  this 
stage  was,  I  felt,  too  weak  to  resist  a  powerful  stimulus. 
He  went  on  modeling  without  giving  much  of  an  answer. 

I  then  said  :•"  Why  don't  you  make  a  rest  for  a  pen  or 
something  like  that  ?  You  could  make  it  just  long  enough 
to  hold  pens  so  that  the  ink  wouldn't  fall  on  the  desk  when 
you  laid  them  down.  You  could  put  in  a  little  cup  for  ink, 
too,  and  make  it  like  a  fern  leaf,  with  the  stem  winding 
round  the  little  cup.  Or  you  might,  perhaps,  make  a  frog 
looking  into  the  little  pool  of  ink";  and  so  on,  giving  a 
number  of  scattered  suggestions.  One  of  these  appealed  to 
his  imagination,  and  he  said  :  "  Yes,  that  would  be  better  "  ; 
and  he  started  to  sketch  in  clay  the  new  idea.  (I  may 
say  here  that  we  had  a  kiln  in  the  school,  and  that  these 
utensils  could  be  fired,  then  painted,  re-fired,  and  actually 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

used.)    The  next  day  he  was  working  quite  vigorously  at 
his  penholder. 

The  teacher  of  the  room,  hearing  the  story  of  the  boy's 
change  of  plan,  said :  "  That  boy  is  so  shilly-shally  that  if 
I  should  go  and  ask  him  to  change  to  something  else,  I 
believe  he  would  do  it."  I  replied :  "It  would  be  good  to 
try.  If  he  is  to  develop  the  power  to  resist  temptation  at 
all,  he  must  get  just  such  experiences."  She  provided  her- 
self with  a  little  china  pinholder  and  showed  it  to  him,  thus 
presenting  him  with  a  sense  perception  as  against  his  own 
image.  She  pointed  out  the  advantages  of  the  pinholder  as 
well  as  she  could,  including  the  ease  of  its  manufacture. 
The  boy  was  again  pleased  with  the  new  idea,  but  was 
evidently  somewhat  disturbed.  He  finally  said  :  "  Well,  I 
would  make  the  pinholder  if  I  hadn't  said  that  I  was 
going  to  make  the  penholder."  "Oh,  the  superintendent 
won't  care,"  said  the  teacher.  "  No,  I  suppose  he  won't, 
but  I  kind  of  thought  I  would  make  it  and  give  it  to  him 
so  that  he  could  use  it  on  his  desk. "  And  he  went  on  with 
the  work  he  had  in  hand. 

It  is  evident  here  that  what  enabled  the  boy  to  resist  the 
second  temptation  was  the  social  motive,  in  which  he  had 
chosen  me  as  a  member  of  his  group.  Unfortunately  for 
me,  the  penholder  was  never  finished.  A  checkerboard 
which  he  had  started  in  the  sloyd  room  weighed  on  his 
mind,  and  the  next  day  he  proposed  that  he  should  use  the 
time  which  had  been  given  for  modeling  to  finish  the 
checkerboard.  He  said  that  the  holidays  were  near  by, 
and  that  if  he  did  not  get  some  extra  time  the  checker- 
board would  never  be  finished.  The  teacher  permitted  him 
to  make  the  change. 

[139] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

I  saw  him  the  next  day  and  said  jokingly  to  him  :  "  You're 
a  nice,  kind  of  fellow,  changing  around  all  the  time .'  Is 
that  the  sort  of  man  you're  going  to  be  when  you  grow 
up  ?  I  dare  say  you  would  change  again  for  very  little. 
Suppose  I  should  give  you  ten  cents,  would  you  go  on  with 
the  penholder?"  "No,"  he  said,  "I  wouldn't."  "How 
much,  then,  would  you  take  ? "  "  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  less 
than  the  price  of  a  pair  of  boots."  As  the  little  fellow 
came  of  a  poor  family  and  was  sadly  in  need  of  a  pair  of 
boots,  I  could  readily  appreciate  the  measure  of  his  present 
resolution.  Further  temptation  was  not  offered,  and  the 
checkerboard  was  finished  in  time. 

A  course  in  temptation  may  be  a  new  thing  for  the 
public  school,  but  it  is  a  necessary  part  of  the  process  of 
finding  one's  self.  After  all,  in  the  most  spiritual  sense  of 
the  words,  every  one  has  his  price.  The  tragedy  of  it  is, 
as  George  Eliot  says,  that  many  sell  their  souls  and  fail 
to  get  the  price  they  really  want. 

When  self-organized  group  work  has  been  tried  in  the 
higher  grades,  it  is  found  that  the  social  consciousness  of 
the  children,  since  it  is  considerably  more  advanced,  leads 
often  to  an  organization  of  the  class  as  a  whole  as  a  leading 
feature  of  the  work.  There  is  less  naivett  among  older 
children,  and  for  this  reason,  when  the  idea  is  first  broached, 
they  may  look  upon  it  somewhat  askance.  The  school 
habit  has  obtained  a  hold  upon  them,  and  many  of  them 
have  lost  a  good  deal  of  their  natural  spontaneity  and  re- 
sourcefulness. The  idea  of  getting  up  lessons  for  the 
teachers  has  been  accepted,  and  in  many  cases  the  yoke 
may  have  come  to  fit  with  a  fair  degree  of  comfort,  espe- 
cially when  a  good  deal  of  time  is  left  over  for  pursuits  in 
[140] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

which  they  are  more  keenly  interested  from  a  personal 
standpoint. 

To  pupils  breathing  this  atmosphere  the  idea  of  putting 
themselves  into  school  work  which  they  cut  out  for  them- 
selves seems  a  little  too  arduous.  Why  should  they,  when 
they  have  taken  passage  in  a  ship  which  ought  to  arrive  at 
graduation  in  its  own  good  time  ?  It  is  only  necessary  to 
guard  against  falling  overboard.  Besides,  is  it  not  the 
teachers'  business  to  make  things  interesting  ?  Why  should 
pupils  try  to  interest  themselves  or  others  ? 

These  tendencies  are,  however,  only  superficial,  and  if 
all  the  virile  individuals  have  not  already  left  a  school 
which  they  feel  does  not  appeal  to  their  true  ambitions, 
pupils  of  the  higher  grades  often  go  into  such  work  with 
the  greatest  enthusiasm.  Some  examples  of  this  may  be 
cited  from  an  eighth-grade  class  in  the  Colorado  Normal 
School,  where  a  group  of  considerable  size  was  started  for 
the  study  of  German.  The  pupils  heard  that  one  of  the 
Normal  students  was  a  German,  and  they  got  her  consent 
to  act  as  a  teacher.  Following  her  traditions  she  started 
them  off  on  exercises  from  a  text-book.  The  pupils  put 
up  with  this  for  three  or  four  days,  but  at  the  end  of  this 
time  they  proposed  they  should  do  something  more  natural 
and  interesting.  "Talk  to  us,"  they  said,  "in  German. 
Tell  us  the  names  of  some  of  the  things  in  the  school- 
room, and  perform  some  simple  actions,  using  the  words 
that  accompany  them,  and  ask  more  questions."  From 
this  as  a  starting  point  the  group  made  considerable 
progress  in  spoken  German. 

After  some  experiences  in  small  groups,  the  class  practi- 
cally turned  the  history  period  into  self-organized  work. 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The  subject  for  the  year  in  this  grade  was  American  his- 
tory, and  the  pupils  proposed,  toward  the  beginning  of  the 
year,  that,  instead  of  studying  about  the  historical  events 
in  the  usual  way,  they  organize  themselves  into  the  Ameri- 
can Congress  and  act  out  the  debates  and  decisions  of  this 
body  from  the  beginning  to  the  present  time.  It  will  be 
noticed  that  the  class  accepted  the  general  aim,  namely  the 
study  of  American  history,  but  proposed  within  this  general 
aim  to  outline  their  own  course  of  study.  The  teacher 
agreed  to  this,  and  promised  to  give  them  a  written  exam- 
ination on  the  work  they  actually  did.  A  boy  was  chosen 
to  act  as  George  Washington,  the  first  President,  and  mem- 
bers of  Congress  for  the  different  states  were  elected  by 
the  class.  The  Senate  and  the  House  of  Representatives 
occupied  different  ends  of  the  schoolroom,  separated  by 
screens.  A  government  printer  was  selected,  who  printed 
copies  of  the  bills  that  were  brought  into  Congress.  The 
class  prepared  themselves  at  home  for  the  debates  on  their 
bills,  but  at  times  when  this  was  difficult  they  adjourned, 
sent  to  the  library  for  books,  and  in  little  knots,  assisted 
by  the  teacher,  got  up  the  information  that  they  needed. 
The  form  of  the  bills  was  obtained  from  an  actual  bill  of  the 
Colorado  legislature.  The  total  number  of  bills  could  not, 
of  course,  be  introduced,  but  the  selection  made  was  repre- 
sentative of  the  important  affairs  agitating  the  country  at 
the  time.  I  have  in  my  possession  about  forty  of  these 
bills,  from  which  I  have  selected  eight.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  these  bills  show  errors  in  typography,  spelling,  and  con- 
struction. Different  printers  of  course  had  different  stand- 
ards and  capacities.  Faults  were  pointed  out  by  teachers 
and  pupils,  but  even  at  the  end  some  still  remained. 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

H.  B.  No.  i 
A  BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  appropriate  $25,000,000  for  the  President's  use,  to  buy 
arms  and  ammunition,  and  to  pay  men  to  suppress  the  rebellion 
which  has  been  declared  to  exist  in  the  northern  states, 
i .  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  H.  of  R.  in  Congress  assembled, 

that  we  appropriate  $25,000,000  for  the  above  purpose. 

Homer  Randall.  Sen.  from  Georgia. 

S.  B.  No.  i 

A   BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  provide  for  the  Compromise  of  1850. 

1.  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  H.  of  R.  in  Congress  assembled 
that  California  be  admitted  as  a  free  state. 

2.  That  slave  trade  —  that  is,  buying  and  selling  of  slaves  —  be 
abolished  forever  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 

3.  That  there  should  be  a  new  and  very  stringent  fugitive  slave 
law. 

4.  That  Mexico  and  Utah  should  be  made  territory  without  refer- 
ence to  slavery  —  that  is,  the  people  should  make  them  free  or  slave. 

5.  That  since  Texas  claimed  so  much  of  New  Mexico  as  was 
east  of  the  Rio  Grande,  she  should  give  up  her  claim  and  be  paid 
money  for  doing  so. 

John  Gibbons.  Rep.  from  Maine. 

H.  B.  No.  3 

A   BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  provide  for  the  punishment  of  land  misrepresentors. 

1 .  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  H.  of  R.  in  Congress  assembled 
that  a  fine  of  ($10,000)  be  laid  on  persons  who  misrepresent  land. 

2.  That  a  term  in  prison  not  to  exceed  ten  years  be  dealt  out 
to  them. 

Laura  Waters.  Rep.  from  Penn. 

[US] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

H.  B.  No.  3 
A  BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  provide  for  the  building  of  a  harbor  at  New  Orleans. 
Sec.    i.    Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  H.  of  R.  that  we  appro- 
priate $2000  for  the  building  of  a  harbor  at  New  Orleans. 

Mabel  Collins.  Representative  from  Maryland. 

H.  B.  No.  i 

A  BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  provide  for  the  purchase  of  Louisiana  territory. 

1.  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of 
the  U.  S.  that  we  give  the  President  power  to  purchase  the  Louisiana 
territory. 

2.  That  we  pay  fifteen  million  dollars  ($15,000,000)  for  it. 

3.  That  we  hereby  appropriate  that  sum  for  this  purpose. 

Mattie  Miller.  Sen.  from  N.C. 

S.  B.  No.  2 
A  BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  provide  for  the  fortification  of  the  coast. 
Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  that 
guns  be  erected  along  the  eastern  coast  of  the  United  States. 

1.  That  12  guns  be  placed  at  New  York  City,  and  that  12  mines 
be  laid  in  the  harbor  of  New  York. 

2.  That  guns  be  erected  and  mines  be  laid  at  Charleston,  S.C. 

3.  That  we  request  the  Sec.  of  War  to  place  troops  at  Portland, 
Maine. 

S.  B.  No.  i 

A   BILL   FOR 

An  act  to  provide  for  the  building  of  ships  of  war. 

1.  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  H.  of  R.  that  we  direct  the 
Sec.  of  Navy  to  build  12  ships,  arm  and  equip  them  as  soon  as 

le. 

2.  And  that  we  hereby  appropriate  $5,000,000  for  this  purpose, 

[!44] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

H.  B.  No.  I 
A  BILL  FOR 

An  act  for  payment  of  debts,  with  interest  in  full,  made  by  the 

Congress  of  the  Confederation. 

Be  it  enacted  by  the  Congress  of  the  United  states  that  we 
assume  the  responsibility  of  paying  all  the  debts  made  by  the  Con- 
gress of  the  Confederation ;  also  interest  on  that  debt  to  be  paid  in 
good  sound  money. 

When  the  class  came  to  the  Dred  Scott  case,  they  had 
not  thought  of  the  Supreme  Court,  but  when  its  need  was 
apparent  it  was  forthwith  created,  the  prisoner  was  brought 
in,  and  the  case  was  argued  on  each  side  by  lawyers,  both 
of  whom  made  excellent  speeches,  and  the  historic  decision 
was  finally  reached. 

When  the  Civil  War  arose  generals  were  chosen,  who, 
with  the  assistance  of  other  members  of  the  class,  laid  out 
the  middle  and  southern  portion  of  the  United  States  in 
the  school  yard.  This  was  done  on  a  large  scale,  occupy- 
ing about  one  hundred  feet  each  way.  Hills  of  earth  were 
thrown  up  to  represent  the  Appalachian  Mountains,  and 
proper  indentations  marked  the  rivers  and  the  seacoast. 
The  generals  and  their  officers  then  described  different 
periods  of  the  war,  the  rest  of  the  class  looking  on  and 
asking  questions.  No  acting  out  of  the  war  was  attempted, 
imaged  representations  with  the  aid  of  the  relief  map,  over 
which  the  pupils  walked,  being  all  that  was  desired. 

I  hardly  need  to  say  that  the  class  got  a  thoroughly  good 
grip  of  American  history.  A  great  deal  of  special  work  was 
done.  Libraries  throughout  the  town  were  ransacked  for 
all  kinds  of  information  not  to  be  found  in  the  usual  text- 
books of  history.  Books  and  newspapers  printed  during 
[145] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

the  period  that  the  class  was  reenacting  were  particularly 
sought  after.  The  discussions  naturally  were  not  confined 
to  school  hours,  but  ran  out  into  the  playground  and  the 
home.  Those  who  were  most  interested  did  much  more 
work  than  they  would  have  accomplished  under  the  usual 
course  of  study,  and  this  probably  applied  to  at  least  three 
quarters  of  the  class.  Those  who  were  not  so  eager  or  so 
competent  were,  to  some  extent,  kept  up  by  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  rest ;  and  even  the  worst  did  as  well  as  they  could 
have  been  expected  to  do  under  any  circumstances. 

As  the  last  instance  shows,  self-organized  work  may  be 
dominated  by  the  class  as  a  whole,  which  maintains  con- 
trol over  individual  or  subordinate  groups  that  may  be 
formed.  This,  as  already  stated,  is  usually  characteristic  of 
the  higher  grades,  but  it  sometimes  appears  lower  down. 
As  an  instance  of  this,  the  experience  of  a  teacher  of  the 
fourth  grade  in  the  Everett  School,  Boston,  may  be  cited. 
This  was  a  case  where  only  one  group  was  openly  formed 
in  school,  but  the  class  as  a  whole  took  charge  of  the  group 
and  modified  it  to  suit  themselves.  This  was  possible  largely 
because  the  work  selected  was  the  making  of  a  play.  Here 
follows  the  teacher's  description  : 


The  play  of  "  Old  Pipes  and  the  Dryad  "  was  given  by  a  class 
of  girls  in  the  fourth  grade.  Stockton's  "  Fanciful  Tales  "  had  been 
read  during  the  regular  reading  hours.  One  tale,  "  Old  Pipes  and 
the  Dryad,"  was  enjoyed  very  much.  It  was  suggested  by  the 
teacher  that  the  story  might  be  dramatized  and  given  by  the  class. 
Two  or  three  different  groups  of  friends  considered  the  possibility, 
and  finally  one  girl  —  Teddy  —  who  was  very  anxious  to  be  the 
Dryad,  really  did  dramatize  the  story  and  assigned  the  parts  to  girls 
whom,  as  she  said,  read  well  and  would  learn  quickly.  They  worked 
together  and  consulted  the  teacher  when  in  difficulty ;  for  instance, 
[I46] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

they  did  not  see  how  to  put  descriptive  paragraphs  into  conversa- 
tion. The  process  was  illustrated  and  they  did  the  rest  alone. 
However,  the  writing  of  the  play  was  comparatively  easy  because 
the  text  was  followed  minutely  where  possible.  At  first  the  play  was 
all  in  one  act. 

Rehearsals  began  before  the  parts  were  learned.  "It  is  easier  to 
remember  when  you  are  doing  the  things,"  as  one  of  the  girls 
expressed  it.  They  used  their  own  diction  at  first,  simply  keeping 
the  general  sentiment  of  Stockton.  But  gradually,  little  by  little, 
the  text  expression  was  introduced,  because  it  was  admired  by  them, 
as  being  more  expressive  than  their  own  words.  Hence  there  was  no 
formal  declamatory  air  in  the  reading  of  their  parts.  All  was  simple 
and  childlike,  for  the  words  seemed  to  be  their  own.  Most  of  the 
rehearsals  took  place  before  the  class,  who  proved  to  be  hard  yet 
helpful  critics.  Each  and  all  of  the  fifty  girls  felt  at  liberty  to 
speak  at  any  time,  if  by  so  doing  the  play  could  be  improved.  The 
production  of  that  play  satisfactorily  was  the  aim  not  only  of  the 
players  but  of  the  entire  class. 

Quite  late  in  its  growth  the  play  was  divided  into  four  acts. 
The  change  came  about  in  the  following  way.  The  girls  said,  "It  is 
very  queer  to  have  just  one  act,  as  if  the  play  took  only  one  day. 
In  the  story,  first  it  is  springtime  and  then  it  is  fall.  We  must  tell 
the  people  that  time  has  passed  on,  or  else  it  will  seem  foolish." 

"  Yes,  and  in  theaters  where  things  take  place  at  different  times  and 

at  different  places,  there  are  acts.    Then  the  time  passes  in  between." 

So,  to  be  logical,  the  play  was  divided  into  acts.    The  players 

gave  their  play,  and  were  stopped  by  the  class  whenever  a  natural 

ending  came. 

One  girl  was  dismissed  from  the  play.  She  took  the  part  of  one 
of  the  children  in  the  play,  and  "wiggled  too  much,  and  exaggerated 
her  'sh  ! '  too  much."  Consequently  the  class  objected,  and  a  contest 
•was  held  to  see  who  would  have  the  part.  Another  contest  took 
place  which  was  interesting.  The  Dryad  was  sick,  and  word  came 
from  her  mother  that  there  was  a  possibility  of  her  not  returning  to 
school.  This  caused  much  disappointment,  but  the  play  had  to  be 
given,  so  a  contest  was  proposed  to  see  who  should  take  the  Dryad's 
part.  One  night's  preparation  was  allowed  at  the  suggestion  of  one 
girl,  and  following  are  some  remarks  that  were  made  at  the  contest. 
About  twenty  took  part. 

[147] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

"Voice  too  high!" 

"  Voice  too  deep  !   Not  like  a  fairy's ! " 

"  Acts  too  stiff !  " 

"  No  one  can  do  it  as  well  as  Teddy !  She  knows  how  to  use  her 
eyes ! " 

Naturally  Teddy's  reappearance  at  school  was  hailed  with  delight. 

The  class  costumed  the  players,  each  one  thinking  it  an  honor  if 
her  donation  was  accepted.  A  hat  came  from  one,  a  cane  from 
another ;  a  bunch  of  flowers  here,  and  a  crown  there.  The  staging 
was  very  simple,  on  account  of  lack  of  room.  A  clothes  closet  was 
the  tree  ;  a  screen,  the  house  ;  the  desks,  the  trees ;  and  ordinary 
chairs  the  benches  and  stones. 

One  girl  persisted  in  saying,  "  I  will  bring  the  money,"  when 
she  should  have  said  "  take."  The  teacher  objected,  but  with 
no  effect.  One  day,  however,  a  stranger  who  saw  the  play  said : 
"Why  do  you  say  bring?  I  didn't  like  that  one  part."  After  she 
left,  the  class  asked  why  bring  was  wrong.  A  lesson  —  not  formal 
of  course  —  was  then  and  there  given,  after  which  take  was  always 
emphasized. 

The  play  was  given  fourteen  times  to  audiences  of  about  fifty  at 
a  time,  and  once  at  another  school  before  two  hundred  and  fifty 
grown-up  people.  The  girls  were  never  self-conscious  and  spoke 
with  exceptional  clearness  and  distinctness. 

During  the  rehearsals  there  was  really  no  "discipline  "  necessary. 
Each  girl  felt  free  to  get  up  and  express  her  ideas,  and  each  one 
seemed  happy. 

Once  "  Old  Pipes  "  was  absent,  and  a  class  had  been  invited  to  see 
the  play.  But  a  substitute  came  forward,  said  that  she  knew  the 
part,  and  really  did  do  it  quite  as  well  as  Old  Pipes  himself.  The 
play  was  given  by  some  of  the  other  girls  at  their  homes  and 
elsewhere. 

The  original  story  was  reread  once,  and  even  the  poorest  reader 
in  the  room  read  remarkably  well. 

Reading,  writing,  composition,  language,  and  spelling  were  taught 
indirectly  and  directly  by  the  play,  and  the  feeling  of  good  fellow- 
ship that  resulted  was  worth  hours  of  "  moral  training." 

The  first  act  of  the  play  will  show  the  character  of  the 
children's  work. 

[148] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

OLD  PIPES  AND  THE  DRYAD 

ACT.   I 
Persons  acting :  Place  of  action : 

Old  Pipes  i.  Deep  forest 

Old  Pipes'  Mother  2.   In  front  of  Old 

Three  children  Pipes'  cottage 

O.  P.  (sitting  on  a  stone).  Children,  I  am  very  tired  to-night 
and  I  don't  believe  I  can  climb  up  this  steep  path  to  my 
home.  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  help  me. 

Chil.  We  will  do  that  gladly  !  Come  !  (Two  children  take  him 
by  the  arms,  the  other  pushes  him  up  behind.) 

O.  P.  (sitting  down  on  bench  in  front  of  cottage).  I  am  sorry 
that  I  tired  you  so  much ! 

ist  child.  Oh,  that  would  not  have  tired  us  if  we  had  not  been  so 
far  to-day  after  the  cows,  the  sheep,  and  the  goats.  We 
thought  we  should  never  find  them.  (Other  children  mo- 
tion to  child  not  to  tell.) 

O.  P.  Had  to  go  after  the  cows,  the  sheep,  and  the  goats ! 
Why,  what  do  you  mean  by  that? 

2nd  child.  Why,  you  see,  good  sir,  that  as  the  cattle  can't  hear  your 
pipes  now,  some  one  has  to  go  after  them,  and  the  Chief 
Villager  has  hired  us  three  to  do  it. 

O.  P.  How  long  have  you  been  doing  this? 

ist  child.  About  a  year  now.  But  we  are  rested  now  and  must  go 
home.  Good  night,  sir. 

Oth.  chil.  Good  night.  (Go  downhill,  3rd  ch.  shaking  others.) 
3rd  child.  Why  did  you  tell  the  poor  old  man  ? 

O.  P.  (shouting).  Mother!  Mother!  did  you  hear  what  those 
children  said  ? 

Mother  (coming  out  of  cottage).    Children !    I  didn't  know  there 
were  any  children  here. 

[149] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

O.  P.  Yes,  three  children  helped  me  up  the  hill,  and  they  told 
me  that  for  a  whole  year  the  cattle  have  not  heard  my 
pipes  and  that  they  had  to  go  after  them. 

Mother.  They  can't  hear  you  ?    Why,  what's  the  matter  with  the 

cattle  ? 

O.  P.  Ah,  me!  I  don't  believe  there's  anything  the  matter  with 
the  cattle.  It  must  be  with  me  and  my  pipes  that  there  is 
something  the  matter.  But  one  thing  is  certain :  if  I 
don't  earn  the  wages  the  Chief  Villager  pays  me,  I  shall 
not  take  them.  I  shall  go  straight  down  to  the  village 
and  give  back  the  money  I  received  to-day. 

Mother.  Nonsense !  I'm  sure  you've  piped  as  well  as  you  could 
and  no  more  can  be  expected.  And  what  are  we  to  do 
without  the  money  ? 

O.  P.  I  don't  know,  but  I  am  going  down  to  the  village  to  pay 
it  back.  Good-by  mother ! 

Mother  (gazing  at  him  until  he  disappears).  Well,  if  you  will  go, 
good-by.  (Rises  and  goes  into  the  cottage.) 

The  control  of  the  whole  class  over  everything  that  is 
done  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  self-organized  work 
carried  on  in  the  classes  of  Miss  Lotta  Clark,  of  the  Charles- 
town  High  School.  Says  Miss  Clark  :  "  I  talked  the  matter 
over  with  my  classes  and  asked  them  how  they  would  like  to 
try  the  experiment  of  conducting  their  history  lessons  them- 
selves. The  novelty  of  the  idea  pleased  them,  and  after 
considerable  informal  discussion  we  decided  to  carry  on  our 
recitations  in  the  form  of  business  meetings.  A  chairman 
was  appointed  from  the  class  to  take  charge  of  the  meeting, 
and  there  was  something  of  a  sensation  when  I  exchanged 
chairs  with  him.  He  appointed  committees  to  nominate  can- 
didates for  a  president,  vice  president,  and  secretary.  These 
officers  were  elected  by  ballot  for  one  month,  and  their 
duties  were  decided  upon  by  the  class.  We  had  an  amusing 
[ISO] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

time  when  they  tried  to  decide  what  they  ought  to  do  with 
me.  I  told  them  I  was  going  to  do  just  as  little  as  pos- 
sible in  the  class,  so  that  they  could  have  all  the  time  and 
opportunity  there  was.  They  finally  decided  to  call  me  the 
"executive  officer,"  with  power  to  exercise  full  authority 
if  necessity  required. 

"The  business  form  of  the  meeting  did  not  occupy  a 
great  deal  of  time.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  had  time  to 
spare.  The  time  which  had  previously  been  taken  up  by 
the  teacher's  questions  was  saved,  and  the  pupils  could 
easily  recite  in  half  an  hour  what  it  had  taken  them  an 
hour  to  prepare.  ...  The  roll  call  and  the  report  of  the 
previous  day  were  sometimes  finished  in  five  minutes,  the 
lesson  of  the  day  in  thirty  more,  and  we  found  ourselves 
with  ten  minutes  to  spare.  There  were  various  suggestions 
as  to  what  we  should  do  with  the  extra  time.  One  was,  that 
they  take  longer  lessons,  and  this  being  adopted,  the  habit 
grew  of  letting  them  assign  their  own  lessons.  The  result 
was  that  they  almost  always  took  longer  ones  than  I  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  giving  them. 

"  Another  suggestion  was  that  the  scholars  should  collect 
pictures  and  show  them  to  the  class  during  spare  minutes. 
One  boy  said  he  didn't  have  much  luck  in  finding  pictures, 
but  would  like  to  read  things  in  other  books  and  tell  them 
to  the  class.  A  girl  asked  if  she  might  draw  some  pictures 
from  a  book  in  the  library,  and  still  another  boy  asked  me 
to  get  permission  for  him  to  go  to  the  Art  Museum  with 
his  camera  and  take  photographs  of  the  casts  there,  that 
were  connected  with  the  work.  We  did  all  these  things 
and  many,  many  more ;  and  these  suggestions  led  to  the 
richest  development  of  all  in  the  work  of  this  year.  The 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

classes  formed  themselves  into  little  informal  clubs,  met  at 
recess  and  after  school,  and  decided  what  each  would  do 
to  contribute  something  interesting  to  the  lessons.  There 
were  the  drawing  clubs  and  the  camera  clubs,  while  the 
club  that  brought  in  pictures  and  newspaper  clippings,  and 
told  interesting  accounts  which  they  had  read,  called  them- 
selves the  Sidelights  Club. 

"Among  these  groups  the  most  important  and  success- 
ful was  the  Library  Club  of  last  year.  It  consisted  of  twelve 
pupils  most  of  the  time  (sometimes  more).  Their  object 
was  to  go  to  the  library  once  a  week  and  read  there,  among 
the  old  and  rare  volumes  and  newspapers,  interesting  things 
about  the  early  history  of  their  home  —  Charlestown.  As 
some  of  these  volumes  were  of  great  value  and  the  news- 
papers were  very  old,  it  was  necessary  to  get  permission 
to  use  them  from  the  head  librarian  of  the  main  library  in 
Boston.  During  the  interview  which  took  place  when  the 
teacher  went  to  get  permission  for  the  pupils  to  use  these 
things,  one  of  the  head  officials  said  after  he  had  heard  a 
description  of  what  was  wanted  :  '  You  may  have  anything 
you  wish  either  at  the  branch  or  at  the  main  library,  but 
we  tell  you  frankly  that  we  do  not  expect  that  you  will 
accomplish  anything.  It  is  not  our  experience  that  school 
children  care  anything  for  that  sort  of  thing.'  Their  only 
stipulation  was  that  the  teacher  should  be  present  when 
the  pupils  went  to  the  library,  to  be  sure  that  the  books 
and  papers  were  handled  with  the  greatest  care.  The  girls 
selected  Thursday  afternoon,  and  the  librarian  at  the  branch 
provided  a  special  table  for  their  use,  and  put  all  the  books 
we  had  asked  for  in  a  convenient  place  by  themselves. 
The  girls  were  very  careful  that  the  teacher  should  be 
[152] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

punctual  and  regular  in  attendance,  though  at  times  it 
was  very  hard  for  her  to  do  so. 

"  Many  interesting  things  were  learned  and  reported  to 
the  class  and  used  as  material  for  the  school  publication. 
But  toward  the  end  of  the  winter  they  made  a  discovery 
which  was  the  most  interesting  of  all.  In  reading  a  book 
by  Mr.  Eades  on  old  Charlestown,  they  discovered  that 
John  Harvard  was  a  citizen  of  Charlestown.  Like  many 
other  people,  they  had  always  associated  Harvard  with 
Cambridge,  and  were  amazed  to  find  that  the  Harvard 
grant  and  the  site  of  the  home  were  only  a  stone's  throw 
from  the  place  where  they  were  studying.  They  dropped 
their  books  and  started  out  to  find  it,  and  after  some 
searching  and  calculation  they  found  the  place  which  is 
now  occupied  by  a  brick  apartment  house.  Surprise  was 
expressed  that  the  place  had  never  been  marked,  and  the 
half-laughing  suggestion  was  made  that  'we  mark  it.'  The 
occurrence  was  reported  in  the  history  class,  and  the  whole 
class  took  the  matter  up  and  discussed  different  phases  of 
it  at  different  times.  One  of  the  boys  offered  to  find  out 
how  much  a  suitable  tablet  would  cost,  and  after  discussing 
materials  and  marking,  the  class  decided  that  they  wanted 
a  granite  tablet  3x2  feet  with  the  following  inscription : 


SITE     OF   THE     HOME     OF 
JOHN      HARVARD 

1637 
MARKED    BY    THE     HISTORY    CLUI 

OF   THE 

CHARLESTOWN     HIGH    SCHOOL 
1907 


[153] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

"  The  boy  wrote  to  a  number  of  firms,  stated  what  was 
desired,  got  the  prices,  and  reported  to  the  class  that  the 
best  price  he  could  get  was  $40.  Another  boy  said  he 
thought  he  could  do  better,  and  he  got  figures  and  finally 
asked  the  teacher  and  the  first  boy  to  go  with  him  to  a  firm 
in  Boston  where  a  former  pupil  of  the  school  was  employed. 
This  gentleman  found  that  he  could  make  us  the  tablet  at 
the  price  of  $33.40. 

"  Then  came  the  question  of  how  to  get  the  money.  The 
first  suggestion  was  to  give  an  entertainment,  but  the  pupils 
were  confronted  by  some  unusual  difficulties.  They  were 
occupying  a  temporary  building  while  their  new  school  was 
being  built,  and  there  was  no  hall  they  could  use.  There 
were  only  two  months  left  before  school  closed,  and  at  one 
time  it  looked  rather  hopeless.  The  parents  of  most  of  the 
children  were  poor,  and  graduation  time  was  approaching, 
which  necessitates  much  expense,  and  for  this  and  other  rea- 
sons class  contribution  was  not  favored.  The  pupils  wanted  to 
earn  the  money,  but  there  didn't  seem  to  be  any  way  to  do 
it  in  the  time  they  had  before  their  graduation.  The  teacher 
suggested  that  they  allow  the  next  year's  class  to  take  up  the 
work  where  they  had  left  it.  This  plan  was  rejected,  as  was 
also  the  one  to  have  the  whole  school  take  up  the  work. 
They  said  frankly  that  they  had  begun  the  work  and  they 
wanted  the  satisfaction  of  finishing  it  if  they  'only  could.' 

"  At  just  this  point  the  teacher  was  invited  to  an  evening 
gathering,  and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  was  asked 
to  describe  the  work  of  this  class.  The  listeners  were  all 
educators  and  their  sympathy  was  aroused  by  this  partic- 
ular piece  of  work,  and  an  offer  was  made  to  collect  the 
money  there  in  that  company.  The  very  kind  offer  was 
[154] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

refused  by  the  teacher  for  this  reason :  it  would  have  taken 
the  matter  out  of  the  hands  of  the  pupils,  and  they  would 
have  missed  the  benefit  of  actually  doing  the  thing  them- 
selves, or  the  disappointment  if  they  failed  to  do  it.  This 
caused  a  good  deal  of  discussion.  One  lady  gave  the  argu- 
ment that  in  the  business  world  when  a  man  has  a  good 
idea  he  very  often  gets  others  to  furnish  the  money  to  carry 
it  out.  A  gentleman  remarked  that  it  would  be  a  crime 
in  his  opinion  to  allow  the  thing  to  fail.  The  outcome  of 
the  matter  was  as  follows :  suggestions  were  made  as  to 
the  ways  in  which  the  pupils  could  earn  the  money,  and  the 
teacher  was  authorized  to  convey  to  the  class  the  encour- 
aging assurance  that  they  were  to  go  on  and  earn  as  much 
as  they  could,  and  if  they  could  not  earn  it  all  before  they 
were  separated  by  graduation,  the  remaining  sum  would 
be  contributed. 

"One  of  the  ways  suggested  by  the  company  for  the 
pupils  to  earn  money  was  by  lettering  diplomas,  and  three 
girls  earned  about  six  dollars  by  this  means.  One  of  the 
other  girls  earned  two  dollars  by  sewing,  and  some  of  the 
boys  sold  papers  for  their  money.  One  girl's  father  sug- 
gested that  a  gentleman  who  had  been  a  graduate  of  the 
school  be  told  of  the  matter,  as  he  is  interested  in  history. 
Through  him  the  mayor  of  Boston  was  interested  and  sent  a 
check.  Every  pupil  worked  and  did  what  he  could,  whether 
it  was  much  or  little,  and  the  tablet  was  procured  and  un- 
veiled on  their  graduation  day. 

"  That  they  were  doing  something '  real '  was  the  greatest 
inspiration  to  the  boys  and  girls,  and  they  got  much  practi- 
cal experience  from  it.  They  learned  why  treasurers  should 
give  bonds,  although  one  girl  said  that  she  considered  it  an 
[155] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

insult  to  the  treasurer,  and  stated  quite  forcibly,  to  the 
amusement  of  the  others,  that  she  wouldn't  be  a  treasurer 
if  the  rest  had  so  little  confidence  in  her.  The  seriousness 
of  the  position  came  home  to  the  class,  however,  when  the 
treasurer  lost  her  purse  which  contained  one  of  the  checks 
belonging  to  the  fund.  She  had  not  indorsed  it  and  was 
greatly  pleased  that  she  had  not.  When  the  advice  of  the 
class  was  solicited,  the  matter  of  stopping  the  payment  of 
checks  was  considered,  explained,  and  acted  upon. 

"The  cooperation  of  the  owner  of  the  building  on  the 
site  of  John  Harvard's  home  was  solicited  by  the  pupils  and 
obtained.  He  imbedded  the  tablet  in  the  wall  for  them. 
During  Old  Home  Week  a  laurel  wreath  was  hung  over 
the  tablet,  and  the  boys  and  girls  were  glad  to  have  done 
'  something  real,'  as  one  of  them  expressed  it." 

With  pupils  of  a  college  grade  self-organized  work  ought 
to  be  just  as  feasible  as  in  lower  grades.  This  is  shown  by 
the  work  done  in  the  classes  of  several  of  the  teachers  of 
the  Boston  Normal  School,  who  have  experimented  success- 
fully in  this  direction.  The  following  reports  of  two  of  these 
self-organized  groups  in  the  classes  of  Miss  Dora  Williams 
will  indicate  the  spirit  and  the  quality  of  the  work.  Other 
groups  in  this  class  during  the  same  time  dealt  with 
Aquariums,  Artificial  Incubation,  Hens  and  Eggs,  Cocoons, 
Migration  of  Birds,  Trees,  the  Struggle  for  Existence,  and 
Adaptation  to  Surroundings.  Self -organized  work  of  this 
kind  must  be  distinguished  from  the  ordinary  college  elec- 
tions, in  which  the  pupils  are  not  called  upon  to  organize 
the  subject.  It  differs  also  from  the  most  of  seminar  work, 
where  the  choice  of  subjects  and  effect  upon  the  class  is 
left  mainly  to  the  teacher. 

[156] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

GROUP   WORK   IN   SCIENCE 
SEA  LIFE 

Having  discussed  the  value  of  self-organized  group  work  in  the 
psychology  class  last  year,  it  was  thought  it  would  be  decidedly  ben- 
eficial should  the  students  of  the  Normal  School  be  given  an  oppor- 
tunity to  try  it  for  themselves.  Consequently  last  fall  this  opportunity 
was  offered  in  the  science  class. 

One  period  of  home  preparation  was  allowed,  in  which  the  students 
might  think  up  special  topics  upon  which  the  groups  might  work  with 
benefit  to  both  themselves  and  the  class.  At  the  next  recitation  each 
student  offered  her  suggestions,  and  a  list  of  these  was  made  and 
their  values  discussed.  Then  each  pupil  looked  over  the  list  and 
chose  the  topic  in  which  she  was  most  interested  and  which  she 
thought  it  would  do  her  the  most  good  to  work  upon.  In  this  way 
the  groups  were  entirely  self-chosen,  for  each  pupil  was  free  to  enter 
what  group  she  wished,  and  even  the  topics  were  not  assigned  by 
the  teacher. 

As  was  natural,  the  topics  covered  a  wide  range,  for  such  a  large 
number  of  students  could  not  help  having  widely  differing  interests. 
This,  however,  was  desirable,  for  when  the  groups  reported  to  the 
class  the  knowledge  of  the  class  was  so  much  the  more  extensive. 

As  was  also  natural,  the  groups  varied  greatly  in  size,  for  some 
of  the  topics  appealed  to  many  of  the  girls  while  others  seemed  to 
interest  only  a  few.  Thus  there  were  six  in  the  group  studying  birds 
and  only  two  in  the  group  studying  sea  life,  of  which  I  was  a  member. 

Our  reasons  for  choosing  this  particular  subject  were  twofold.  The 
first  was  that  we  had  spent  a  part  of  last  summer  at  the  Marine  Biolog- 
ical Laboratory  at  Woods  Hole,  Massachusetts,  and  had  there  become 
much  interested  in  sea  life.  We  had  also  collected  some  very  good  speci- 
mens. The  second  reason  was  that  we  thought  that  the  recognition  of 
the  ascending  development  of  the  organs  of  defense  and  offense  would 
be  of  use  to  the  whole  class,  especially  if  we  could  actually  show  speci- 
mens illustrating  this  ascent  in  type  animals  of  principal  phyla. 

A  description  of  the  technical  work  done  will  be  given  later,  but 
just  here  I  want  to  tell  of  what  we  got  out  of  the  group  work  aside 
from  subject-matter. 

At  the  present  time  great  stress  is  being  put  upon  the  fact  that 
we  must  keep  the  children  interested  and  self-active  to  do  them  the 

[157] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

most  good  in  our  work  with  them.  We  certainly  were  interested  in 
our  work  or  else  we  should  not  have  chosen  the  subject  or  formed 
our  group.  We  were  decidedly  self-active  and  independent,  owing 
to  two  facts :  first,  we  wanted  to  have  something  of  value,  well  ar- 
ranged, to  present  to  the  class ;  second,  we  needed  to  do  the  work 
ourselves  in  order  to  accomplish  this. 

We  are  taught  nowadays  that  the  powers  of  cooperation  and 
organization  must  be  trained  to  enable  one  to  fill  properly  any  station 
in  life.  In  this  group  work  we  had  to  cooperate,  for  had  we  not 
met  together  and  talked  over  what  each  should  do  that  would  best 
further  the  end  we  had  in  view,  we  should  never  have  reached  that 
end  at  all,  and  there  would  have  been  no  unity  in  our  work.  We  had 
to  organize  our  subject-matter  and  material,  making  a  clear  plan  as 
to  how  we  should  present  the  former  and  show  the  latter,  else,  again, 
our  work  would,  when  brought  before  the  class,  have  lacked  unity 
and  would  not  have  been  logical. 

A  certain  amount  of  self-control  was  necessary  to  prevent  one 
member  of  the  group  from  acting  selfishly  or  trying  to  dictate  to  the 
other.  Perseverance  was  needed  in  several  instances  where  we  had 
difficulties  in  carrying  out  the  plans  we  had  made.  It  seems  to  me 
that  these  last  two  qualities  of  the  will  are  especially  desirable,  and 
that  if  we  can  train  them  by  such  a  delightful  method  as  group  work, 
we  should  not  hesitate. 

I  think  that  enough  has  been  said  to  show  how  valuable  a  device 
group  work  is  in  training  important  mental  powers,  so  now  I  will  give 
a  brief  account  of  the  work  done. 

We  first  made  out  an  analysis  of  the  ground  we  wished  to  cover, 
and  had  it  accepted  by  the  class.  The  special  line  of  thought  which 
we  wished  to  follow  was  the  development  of  the  organs  by  which 
the  different  animals  are  able  to  sustain  life  and  keep  their  race  sur- 
viving. We  did  this  by  showing  specimens  of  type  animals  of  six 
phyla,  starting  with  ccelenterata  and  including  vertebrates  which 
showed  clearly  these  points.  These  specimens  were  some  that  we 
had  collected  that  summer  and  preserved  with  reference  to  some 
such  need  as  this. 

We  arranged  these  specimens  around  on  the  tables  in  the  class  room 
before  recitation  in  such  a  way  that  each  three  girls  would  have  one 
specimen.  In  a  couple  of  cases  we  had  only  two  specimens,  so  that 
we  had  to  have  these  passed  around  the  class  as  they  were  discussed. 

[158] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

In  order  that  both  of  us  should  have  the  opportunity  of  working 
with  the  class,  we  divided  the  work  into  two  parts,  one  of  us  taking 
the  introductory  talk  and  the  first  three  phyla,  and  the  other  taking 
the  other  three  phyla  and  the  ground  covered. 

Our  idea  was  to  draw  the  facts  from  the  pupils  after  they  had 
examined  the  specimens,  instead  of  telling  them  everything.  We  got 
almost  all  the  points  we  wanted,  with  only  suggestions  from  us  as  to 
what  line  their  observations  were  to  follow,  and  in  this  way  they 
were  much  more  interested  and  active  than  if  we  had  simply  stated 
a  number  of  facts  to  them. 

As  the  different  facts  were  mentioned,  they  were  written  on  the 
board  in  the  form  of  the  following  topical  analysis,  which  the  pupils 
were  allowed  to  copy  for  future  reference  if  they  wished. 

SEA  LIFE 
I.  Ccelenierata. 
Sea  anemone. 

1.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

a.  Tentacles  —  lasso  cells. 

b.  Stinging  capsules  contained  in  ectoderm. 

c.  Elongated  cells  containing  slender  barbs. 

2.  Sense  of  sight. 

a.  Isolated  nerve  cells  at  base  of  tentacles. 

b.  Round  refractory  cells. 

3.  Sense  of  hearing  lacking. 
II.  Echinodermata. 

1,  Starfish. 

a.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

(1)  Ambulacral  feet  or  suckers. 

(2)  Rows  of  calcareous  movable  spines.   Pedicellarise. 

(3)  Tentacles  containing  olfactory  cells. 

b.  Sense  of  sight.    Small  eye  (red  spot)  at  end  of  am- 

bulacral  groove. 

2.  Sea  urchin. 

a.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

(1)  Movable  spines.    Pedicellariae. 

(2)  Tube  feet. 

b.  Sense  of  sight.    Ocular  plates  bearing  eye  plates. 

c.  Sense  of  hearing  lacking. 

[159] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

III.  Vermes. 

Nereis  virens  (sandworm). 

1.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

a.  Two  horny  jaws. 

b.  Locomotive  organs. 

2.  Sense  of  sight.    Eyes  in  a  head. 

3.  Sense  of  hearing  lacking. 
IV.  Mollusca. 

Squid. 

1.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

a.  Ten  arms  provided  with  suckers.    Two  longer  than 

others. 

b.  Mouth  with  two  horny  jaws. 
Tongue  adapted  to  rasping. 

c.  Tail  and  mantle  fins  used  for  locomotion. 

d.  Change  of  color  when  excited. 

e.  Ink  sac. 
f.  Siphon. 

2.  Sense  of  sight.    Pair  of  large  movable  eyes  on  head. 

3.  Sense  of  hearing  lacking. 
V.  Arthropoda. 

1.  Crayfish. 

a.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

(1)  Two  antennas  (organs  of  hearing  and  balance). 

(2)  Four  antennules  (organs  of  smell). 

(3)  Appendages. 

(a)  Thoracic  legs. 

Three  pairs  maxillipeds. 
One  pair  chelipeds. 
Four  pairs  walking  legs. 

(b)  Abdominal. 

Six  pairs  swimmerets. 
One  telson  or  tail  fin. 

b.  Sense  of  sight.    Large  eyes  on  a  rostrum  on  stalks 

movable  in  all  directions. 

2.  Hermit  crab. 

a.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

(1)  Stolen  shell. 

(2)  One  pair  antennae,  —  organs  of  smell. 

[160] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

(3)  Two  pairs  antennae,  —  used  for  balance. 

(4)  One  pair  claws. 

b.  Sense  of  sight.    Pair  of  eyes  on  stalks. 
VI.  Vertebrata. 
Dogfish. 

1.  Organs  of  offense  and  defense. 

a.  Mouth  bristles  with  several   rows  of   double-edged 

teeth. 

b.  Powerful  tail.    Rapid  swimmer. 

2.  Sense  of  sight.     Eye  constructed  on  same  plan  as  in 

mammals. 

3.  Sense  of  hearing.     Auditory  labyrinth  only  (structure 

simple). 

DOGS 

The  subject  "  Dogs  "  is  quite  foreign  to  the  usual  subjects  taken 
up  in  the  senior  course  at  the  Boston  Normal  School,  but  one  which 
has  proved  to  be  of  great  interest  to  me,  and— I  hope  —  assistance 
to  others.  My  plan  of  work  was  to  study  "The  Recognition  of 
Common  Types  of  Dogs"  and  "Louis  Pasteur  and  Hydrophobia." 
As  no  one  else  was  interested  at  the  time  in  the  subject,  I  entered 
upon  the  work  by  myself. 

The  first  question  is,  Why  did  I  choose  the  subject  "Dogs"? 
It  was  not  because  I  have  any  especially  sporty  tendencies,  but 
simply  because  I  was  more  interested  in  dogs  than  in  birds  or  fishes 
or  various  other  subjects  that  have  been  forced  upon  me  all  my  life. 
Then,  too,  I  have  nearly  always  had  a  dog  of  my  own,  —  at  one  time 
an  Irish  terrier,  at  another  a  Skye  terrier,  at  another  a  Cocker  spaniel. 
Besides  all  this,  I  have  often  seen  dogs  of  various  breeds  and  wished 
that  I  could  tell  what  they  were.  My  aim  was  primarily  an  uninten- 
tionally selfish  one,  —  a  hunger  for  knowledge  that  would  be  a  pleas- 
ure and  an  advantage  to  myself ;  then  it  gradually  broadened  out 
until  it  was  a  desire  to  share  with  others  what  might  interest  and 
benefit  them. 

Now  for  some  of  the  difficulties  I  encountered.  When  I  declared 
my  intention  to  the  science  class,  I  read  disapproval,  doubt,  and 
even  amusement  on  the  faces  of  my  listeners ;  but  they  were  all  too 
polite  to  tell  me  what  they  thought  —  until  afterwards.  Instead  of 
being  discouraged  by  their  attitude,  I  think  rather  that  I  was  spurred 
[161] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

on  to  convince  them  that  I  could  do  it.  Not  until  I  was  fairly 
launched  upon  my  task  did  I  realize  its  extent ;  and  though  I  spent 
hours  and  hours  in  my  work,  it  was  never  anything  but  enjoyable. 
The  further  I  went  on,  the  more  and  more  absorbed  in  it  I  became. 
In  studying  "The  Recognition  of  Dogs,"  besides  consulting  various 
books  upon  the  subject,  I  made  numerous  excursions  to  hospitals  for 
animals,  and  it  so  happened  that  the  dogs  I  most  wished  to  see  were 
seldom  sick  in  the  hospital  when  I  went  there.  Pure  types  were  hard 
to  find,  too,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  mongrels  were  numerous.  At 
first,  while  studying  "  Pasteur  and  Hydrophobia,"  I  was  in  despair, 
for  it  seemed  as  if  every  book  on  that  subject  in  the  Boston  Public 
Library  was  written  by  an  antivivisectionist,  who  bitterly  denounced 
Pasteur.  At  last,  quite  accidentally,  I  happened  upon  M.  Renaud 
Lezor's  book  on  "Pasteur  and  Hydrophobia,"  and  also  on  M.  Rene 
Vallery-Radot's  "  Life  of  Pasteur,"  —  both  of  which  gave  me  most 
valuable  information.  Pasteur  achieved  so  many  important  tasks  that 
I  found  it  difficult  in  studying  his  life  to  stick  to  my  point  —  "  Hydro- 
phobia" —  and  not  to  get  side-tracked  on  "  Spontaneous  Generation," 
or  "Tartaric  Acid,"  or  some  other  interesting  subject. 

Owing  to  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Tobin  and  Dr.  Wellington,  I  was 
finally  given  the  privilege  of  escorting  the  senior  class  of  this  school 
to  Dr.  Tobin's  hospital  for  animals  on  Newbury  Street,  to  see  some 
dogs  and  to  have  a  little  talk  about  them.  I  must  confess  that  I  was 
wicked  enough  to  wish  that  I  might  be  ill,  so  that  the  trip  to  the 
hospital  for  animals  might  be  indefinitely  postponed. 

From  the  work  that  I  have  done  in  studying  the  subject  "  Dogs," 
I  feel  that  I  have  consciously  gained  more  than  I  ever  expected.  In 
the  first  place  I  gained  a  great  deal  of  useful  information ;  and  by 
planning  out  the  work  myself,  I  had  a  chance  to  exercise  choice  and 
to  arrange  material  logically.  By  studying  the  live  specimens  I  gained 
in  powers  of  observation.  A  desire  to  impart  to  others  what  I  had 
learned  brought  out  cooperative  spirit  and  a  feeling  of  responsibility. 
The  independence  of  the  work  also  gave  me  pleasure.  The  trip  to 
the  hospital  for  animals  and  the  presentation  that  I  gave  to  the 
school  of  "Pasteur  and  Hydrophobia"  gave  me  more  self-confidence, 
and  that  is  what  I  need  more  than  anything  else. 

For  the  success  of  my  work  I  owe  a  debt  of  thanks  to  the  Bio- 
logical Club,  which  loaned  me  a  most  interesting  letter  written  by 
Miss  Helen  Scott  to  Dr.  George  Gibier  Rambaud,  Director  of  the 

[162] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

New  York  Pasteur  Institute,  who  loaned  and  suggested  books  to  me 
which  were  invaluable  ;  and  to  Dr.  Tobin,  who  gave  me  the  privilege 
of  taking  the  class  to  his  excellent  hospital. 

Before  closing  these  two  chapters  on  what  might  be 
called  the  technique  of  self-organized  work,  and  going  on 
to  consider  its  application  to  different  culture  themes,  a 
few  words  seem  to  be  needed  on  the  subject  of  marking 
and  examinations. 

A  just  recognition  of  merit  is  an  exceedingly  important 
aspect  of  all  educational  work  and  a  necessary  presupposi- 
tion of  a  good  society.  To  what  extent  effective  merit  can 
be  determined  by  examinations  and  recorded  by  marks  is 
a  fundamental  question  of  distributive  justice  both  for 
society  and  the  school.  Part  of  the  presuppositions  and 
results  of  the  current  marking  system  have  been  discussed 
in  the  chapter  on  Tests  for  the  Schools,  but  a  more  special 
inquiry,  however  short,  as  to  the  possibilities  of  marking 
in  its  social  relationships  is  necessary  to  an  understanding 
of  the  subject  as  a  whole. 

Will  stated  examinations  and  formal  marking  diminish 
or  destroy  personal  ambition  to  social  service  on  the  part 
of  the  pupils,  or  can  these  instruments  be  used  to  further 
earnest  and  serious  effort  for  the  good  of  others  ? 

The  answer  to  this  will  depend  on  whether  the  marks 
register  individual  excellence  independently  of  the  proved 
ability  to  organize  and  take  responsibility  for  the  interest 
and  advancement  of  others,  or  whether  this  additional  merit 
is  included  in  the  record.  Although  the  latter  virtue  is 
always  recognized  by  every  one,  it  is  usually  left  to  be 
its  own  reward,  and  the  marking  and  ranking  which  fol- 
lows is  concerned  with  individual  ability  in  an  intellectual 
[163] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

performance  rather  than  in  successful  service  to  the  class, 
the  school,  or  the  community. 

One  reason  for  the  failure  to  include  the  virtue  of 
responsibility  and  helpfulness  to  others  in  a  mark  is  the 
difficulty  of  seeing  how  it  can  be  done.  It  is  doubted 
whether  merit  of  this  kind  can  be  measured  with  even 
approximate  justice,  and  attention  is  thereby  focused  on 
the  pupils'  knowledge  of  the  dictated  course  of  study.  It 
is  moreover  recognized  that  certain  moral  qualities,  such 
as  that  of  faithful  industry  or  application  to  a  task,  are 
indirectly  measured  and  included  in  the  mark  given  for  a 
well-conned  lesson  or  a  brilliant  recitation. 

It  is  quite  evident  that  marking  of  this  kind,  or,  perhaps, 
any  marking  whatever,  would  rarely  be  resorted  to  if  each 
pupil  were  taught  alone.  Tutors  of  single  pupils  are  satis- 
fied to  commend  or  to  point  out  the  deficiencies  in  the 
work  that  has  been  attempted,  or  even  to  ignore  either 
praise  or  blame,  and  encourage  and  interest  the  pupil 
simply  by  analyzing  for  him  the  difficulties  and  indicating 
the  problems  of  the  lesson  that  is  to  follow.  Ordinary 
marking  is  used  chiefly  when  there  is  in  the  same  class  a 
number  of  pupils  of  about  the  same  standard,  and  since  it 
is  employed  without  any  reference  to  self-organization  or 
cooperation,  the  only  possible  social  result  is  one  of  individ- 
ual competition.  In  addition  to  this,  in  the  grammar  grades 
at  least,  the  pupils  frequently  look  upon  the  mark  given 
as  pay  for  work  done  for  the  teacher.  When  this  is  the 
case  they  talk  a  good  deal  with  each  other  and  with  their 
parents  about  the  marks  earned,  and  the  comparative 
standing  of  this  pupil  and  that,  but  very  little  about  the 
subjects  which  they  are  supposed  to  be  studying. 
[164] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

It  is  often  assumed  by  teachers  that  such  marking  has 
a  good  effect  upon  scholarship.  But  what  can  be  the  mean- 
ing of  scholarship  under  such  conditions  ?  Why  do  we  wish 
to  know  things  anyway  ?  Is  it  in  order  to  get  ahead  of  other 
people  ?  Or  is  it  practically  assumed,  when  pupils  work  for 
marks,  that  they  really  do  not  wish  to  know  the  subject 
and  therefore  they  must  be  forced  to  acquire  it  by  outside 
pressure  ?  If  this  is  so,  why  use  such  a  word  as  scholar- 
ship ?  A  monkey  can  be  bribed  or  forced  to  take  off  his 
little  hat  and  beg  for  pennies.  Is  it  education  which  has 
produced  this  result  ?  Have  we  here  a  simple  kind  of 
scholarship  —  a  something  that  is  learned  for  advantage  or 
for  fear  of  consequences  to  self  ?  Ironically  enough,  slavish 
learning  of  this  kind  in  either  monkeys  or  men  often  turns 
out  to  be  the  very  weapon  by  which  they  are  exploited  by 
others.  They  have  acquired  habits  of  obedience  and  indus- 
try, but  are  without  resource  and  initiative.  The  knowledge 
they  have  gained  is  devoid  of  any  inner  power  to  grow. 
Except  for  the  commonest  work  of  the  world,  it  remains 
sterile  and  unproductive,  both  to  society  and  themselves. 

Real  scholarship,  on  the  contrary,  means  a  thorough 
organization  of  knowledge  from  two  points  of  view.  First, 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual  pupil.  He  must  con- 
struct the  subject  for  himself  and  make  it  his  own.  In  the 
mind  of  one  no  subject  can  ever  be  the  same  as  in  the 
mind  of  another.  One  person  will  study  history  because 
he  is  going  to  be  a  lawyer,  another  because  he  expects  to 
preach.  The  reason  for  study  in  each  case  is  different. 
The  center  of  organization  is  different,  and  the  result  will 
necessarily  be  different.  Minds  grow  like  plants  of  differ- 
ent species.  They  may  live  in  the  same  soil  and  air,  but 
[165] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

they  select  and  use  the  nourishment  at  their  disposal  for 
different  purposes.  One  cannot  expect  a  pine  tree  to  be 
organized  like  a  sunflower  or  a  fern. 

The  second  point  of  view  from  which  it  is  necessary  to 
regard  the  organization  of  knowledge  is  social.  Individual 
differences  must  exist,  but  they  must  also  be  combined  in  a 
unity  of  service.  Knowledge  is  not  fully  organized  until  it 
can  be  used  for  the  practical,  aesthetic,  or  intellectual  inter- 
ests of  other  people.  Such  organization  demands  on  the 
part  of  the  individual  more  effective  energy  of  the  will 
and  a  keener  mental  insight  in  order  to  see  his  own  partic- 
ular knowledge  from  the  point  of  view  of  some  one  else. 
For  this  purpose  the  student  must  not  only  adapt  himself 
to  the  other  person,  but  readapt  himself  to  the  content  of 
knowledge  which  he  wishes  to  express.  The  result  is  to 
make  more  profound  as  well  as  more  practical  the  internal 
individual  organization  of  knowledge  with  which  he -set  out. 
In  order  to  attain  an  adequate  and  thorough  individual 
knowledge,  the  social  point  of  view,  and  a  more  or  less  ap- 
proximate view  of  how  this  knowledge  is  organized  in  the 
minds  of  others,  is  necessary  to  the  scholar. 

Scholarship,  after  all,  is  never  something  capable  of  being 
divided  into  blocks  or  morsels  put  together  in  patterns  and 
copied  with  more  or  less  fidelity.  Scholarly  knowledge  is 
always  dynamic  and  creative.  It  grows.  It  never  stays 
"  put."  It  passes  from  mind  to  mind  like  the  spirit  of  life 
over  dead  bones.  It  vibrates  through  a  different  prism  in 
every  intellect.  It  plays  a  different  tune  in  every  heart. 
Such  scholarship  is  the  only  scholarship  there  is.  Children 
are  capable  of  it  to  the  extent  of  their  capacity,  and  may 
have  as  much  joy  in  their  little  knowledge,  if  they  see  its 
[166] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

power  with  others,  as  a  great  scientist  in  his  world-wide 
structures. 

When  teachers  themselves  possess  an  adequate  idea  of 
scholarship,  they  are  disposed  to  regard  the  current  mark- 
ing system  as  an  evil,  albeit,  perhaps,  a  necessary  one. 
The  initial  question,  however,  returns  at  this  point  with 
greater  insistence.  How  is  such  scholarship  to  be  recog- 
nized ?  Must  the  recognition  be  altogether  informal  and 
unorganized  (as  is  of  course  most  suitable  in  the  lower 
classes),  or  is  it  possible,  as  differentiation  goes  on,  to  find 
some  way  in  which  the  social  spirit  of  cooperation  may 
express  itself  in  favor  of  those  who  render  it  the  greatest 
service  ?  To  do  this  is  difficult  in  society  at  large.  Is  it 
impossible  in  the  school  ? 

The  present  writer  is  not  of  the  opinion  that  this  impor- 
tant question  of  distributive  justice  can  be  solved  by  one 
or  two  experiments.  The  standing  of  persons  in  the  com- 
munity or  the  school  and  the  formal  rewards  or  approval 
they  receive  must  always  be  but  roughly  proportionate  to 
their  real  merits.  It  is  enough  if  an  approximate  solution 
be  indicated,  but  one  which  will  distinctly  recognize  the 
social  efforts  and  the  social  success  of  individuals  who  have 
been  of  service  in  changing  the  convictions  of  others,  in 
interesting  them  in  new  ideas,  in  encouraging  them  to 
more  arduous  endeavor,  and  in  organizing  their  knowledge 
in  deeper  and  more  comprehensive  forms. 

The  work  of  certain  of  the  classes  of  the  Boston  Normal 
School  will  give  an  example  of  an  attempt  to  mark  along 
this  line.  The  standing  of  the  pupils  is  determined  by  a 
final  written  examination  which  counts  for  one  third,  and 
the  class  work  which  is  estimated  at  two  thirds  of  the  total 
[167] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

rank.  The  class  work  is  the  only  part  of  the  work  which 
the  pupils  themselves  share  in  estimating.  For  the  present 
year  all  but  one  of  the  sections  into  which  the  class  is 
divided  in  one  of  the  subjects  has  voluntarily  chosen  the 
cooperative  marking.  No  section  was  persuaded  by  the 
teacher  to  adopt  the  scheme ;  some  of  them  tried  it  tem- 
porarily, but  afterwards  adopted  it  permanently  because 
they  considered  it  fairer  than  marking  by  the  teacher  alone. 
At  any  time  they  please  they  may  revert  to  the  previous 
style  of  marking. 

The  plan  is  briefly  as 'follows.  The  class  work  is  in  the 
first  place  cooperative.  Each  pupil,  either  individually  or 
as  one  of  a  group,  prepares  work  which  is  expressed  to  the 
section  as  a  whole.  Discussion  follows,  including  questions, 
cross-examination,  and  the  pointing  out  of  difficulties.  Each 
person  who  presents  any  idea  labors  to  be  assured  that  this 
idea  is  landed  in  the  minds  of  every  one  who  hears.  Any 
one  may  call  upon  any  one  else  to  speak.  In  order  to  see 
how  successful  any  individual  has  been,  the  pupils  and 
teacher  frequently  ask  how  many  have  got  the  idea,  and 
whether  it  was  new  to  them,  convinced  them  of  something 
they  were  not  sure  of,  or  was  distinctly  helpful  in  any 
way.  An  idea  which  every  one  knows  already,  and  which 
might  easily  be  obtained  by  ordinary  reading,  is  not  con- 
sidered helpful. 

At  the  end  of  a  certain  period  chosen  by  the  class,  say 
six  weeks  or  a  month,  an  hour  or  more  is  given  up  to  the 
examination.  A  preliminary  paper  is  written  by  each  pupil, 
stating  from  whom  help  has  been  received  and  outlining  the 
facts  of  this  quite  briefly.  The  pupils  then  sit  around  in  a 
circle  with  papers  for  marking,  and  one  pupil  is  called  after 
[168] 


SELF-ORGANIZED  GROUP  WORK 

another.  The  other  members  of  the  class  are  then  asked 
what  they  remembered  this  pupil  to  have  contributed  to 
their  individual  advancement.  They  are  required  to  prove, 
under  cross-examination,  by  every  one  including  the  teacher, 
that  this  help  is  genuine.  Its  degree  of  importance  is  also 
estimated.  The  pupil  to  be  marked  is  then  allowed  to  say 
what  has  been  left  out  of  account,  and  if  this  is  regarded 
as  worthy  and  has  merely  been  temporarily  forgotten,  it  is 
counted  with  the  rest.  To  the  pupil's  credit  will  then  be, 
for  every  distinct  contribution  that  has  been  made,  a  figure 
representing  the  number  of  other  pupils  who  have  been 
helped ;  for  one  contribution,  perhaps  the  whole  of  the 
section  ;  for  another,  but  a  few.  If  the  material  is  re- 
garded as  unimportant,  although  every  one  remembers  it, 
it  is  divided  by  some  figure,  —  two,  three,  or  four,  —  by 
common  consent. 

After  all  the  pupils  have  been  examined  in  this  way,  by 
the  amount  and  value  of  the  knowledge  that  can  be  re- 
covered from  their  comrades,  they  are  easily  classified  by 
a  simple  inspection  of  the  list.  The  following  example  of 
such  a  list  will  be  of  interest  to  the  reader.  The  letters 
stand  for  the  names  of  the  pupils. 

A —9,  i,  1/2,  2,  4=  16  1/2  1—7  =7 

B— 10,  4  =14  J   —4,3,4,9,2      =22 

C  —  ii,  10/4,  7/3  =  15  5/6  K  — 14/2,  12/2,  5  =  18 

D  —  10,2  =12  L  — 1/2  =1/2 

E  —  12,3,3,2,1  =21  M  —  10  =10 

F — 9,4  =13  N — o  =o 

G  — o  =o  O  —6  =6 

H  — 12,8,6/2  =23  P  — 15/2,5/2  =10 

[169] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

REASONING  AND  THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND 
ARITHMETIC  FROM  A  SOCIETARY  STANDPOINT 

The  process  by  which  society  "keeps  itself  going"  is 
fundamentally  a  process  of  reasoning.  Even  industrial  op- 
erations are  the  results  of  thinking  to  realize  an  end,  and 
are  judged  by  the  perfection  and  logical  effectiveness  with 
which  they  attain  it.  The  primitive  hunter,  for  instance, 
makes  a  trap  or  a  fishhook,  and  catches  his  dinner  as  a 
result  of  his  power  to  reason.  When  he  uses  a  tool  previ- 
ously invented,  he  still  invents  the  adaptations  to  the  par- 
ticular situation  in  which  it  is  to  be  used.  Weaving,  the 
making  of  pottery,  the  building  of  a  fire,  etc.,  are  equally 
the  results  of  reasoning,  even  although  accident  may  have 
led  to  the  observation  which  started  the  process. 

The  end  to  be  reached  is  always  the  "  truth  "  in  some 
form  or  other.  A  bird  in  the  hand  on  one  side,  two  in  the 
bush  on  the  other,  are  the  alternatives  which  the  construc- 
tion of  the  bird  trap  aims  to  decide  between.  Whichever 
alternative  results  becomes  the  conclusion,  and  is  forced 
upon  the  experimenter  by  the  data,  some  change  in  which 
may  also  change  the  conclusion.  The  reasoning  here  may 
be  largely  on  a  perceptional  plane,  but  in  more  purely  idea- 
tional  forms  the  movement  is  the  same.  There  are  always 
two  possibilities,  at  least,  which  the  mental  constructions 
aim  to  decide  between,  nor  is  it  always  true  that  these 
[170] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

different  mental  constructions  are  made  more  rapidly  than 
are  the  material  constructions  which  represent  them. 

The  alternatives  or  questions  to  be  decided  by  the  facts 
have  been  called  working  hypotheses,  or  conclusions  when 
the  data  support  them.  Given  as  certain  a  set  of  data  or 
previously  known  truths,  the  conclusion  is  easily  obtained. 
It  is  a  mere  verbal  exercise.  If  all  are  mortal,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  Socrates  is  so.  In  the  same  way,  if  the  trap,  the 
nature  of  the  bird,  and  all  the  circumstances  entering  into 
the  result  are  previously  settled,  the  conclusion  is  certain. 
But  the  conclusion  is,  in  reality,  not  settled  because  the 
previous  facts  are  not  known  until  the  bird  is  caught  or 
Socrates  dies.  All  that  can  be  known  is  a  question  or 
a  degree  of  probability.  A  working  hypothesis  thus  in- 
cludes not  only  the  outer  form  of  the  hypothetical  conclu- 
sion, but  all  the  facts  which  are  contained  in  it. 

Since  reasoning  is  always  engaged  in  trying  to  settle  a 
problem,  it  is  in  reality  always  inductive,  i.e.  essentially 
constructive.  Deduction  is  only  a  part  of  the  problem,  and 
counts  as  the  analysis  or  clear  recognition  of  what  is  con- 
tained or  implied  in  the  construction  made.  No  one  makes 
an  analysis  without  an  object  in  view,  and  the  object  in 
view  in  reasoning  is  the  proved  hypothesis  or  conclusion. 

The  direction  of  reasoning  depends  on  our  interests,  and 
we  are  never  much  interested  unless  a  problem  appeals  to 
us  as  something  which  can  be  settled  one  way  or  another, 
and  which  is  worth  while  settling.  If  we  already  consider 
a  matter  known  or  beyond  knowing,  we  do  not  reason  about 
it.  A  being  who  knows  everything  does  not  need  to  reason. 
In  ordinary  perception  we  usually  feel  (whether  rightly  or 
not)  as  if  we  knew  directly  what  seems  to  be  before  us.  If 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

our  perceptional  powers  were  sufficiently  vast  to  take  in  the 
universe,  we  should  not  need  to  reason.  But  since  they  are 
limited  and  we  cannot  see  round  a  corner  or  into  a  stone 
wall,  we  are  forced  to  imagine  what  it  would  be  like  if  we 
could  ;  that  is,  we  build  hypotheses  based  on  our  experience 
in  order  to  penetrate  the  unknown,  and  we  test  these  hy- 
potheses by  further  appeals  to  experience.  We  never  do 
this,  however,  unless  we  have  some  purpose  in  view.  The 
chemist  looks  into  the  stone  wall  and  sees  atoms  and  mole- 
cules, because  he  wants  to  control  in  some  way  the  material 
there.  The  general  of  an  army  imagines  what  his  opponent 
is  doing  beyond  the  hill  because  he  wishes  to  worst  him  in 
battle.  An  hypothesis  is  thus  simply  an  imagined  or  con- 
ceptual extension  of  the  world  of  primary  or  perceptional 
experience,  and  is  always  tested  or  verified  by  the  changes 
produced  in  this  same  experience. 

These  experiences,  however,  are  by  no  means  lacking  in 
subtlety.  The  smile  of  a  friend  or  the  whisper  of  love  is  a 
perceptional  experience  which  may  occasion  more  mental 
effort,  more  hypothetical  and  material  construction,  to  pre- 
serve its  memory  intact,  or  to  produce  its  repetition,  than 
either  the  thought  of  the  general  on  the  battlefield  or  the 
chemist  in  the  laboratory.  In  order  to  get  experiences  of  a 
high  degree  of  value,  we  never  confine  ourselves  to  the  inner 
side  of  the  world.  Even  God  is  no  longer  the  Great  Com- 
panion if  we  do  not  see  Him  in  the  human  beings  we  live 
with  and  the  deeds  we  do. 

The  development  of  reasoning  is  simply  the  question  of 
making  conscious,  and  therefore  more  inventive  and  con- 
trollable, the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends.  But  since  we 
are  always  social  beings,  both  these  means  and  their  ends 
[172] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

are  measured  by  the  good  of  society.  Even  when  reasoning 
is  applied  to  gross  material,  or  to  mechanical  concerns,  we 
need  the  cooperation  of  our  peers.  Since  building  hypoth- 
eses is  a  work  of  the  imagination,  we  need  to  test  every  hy- 
pothesis by  the  imagination  of  others.  During  the  process 
of  experience  we  are  forced  to  analyze,  as  well  as  to  add 
new  features  to  our  conceptions  as  a  result  of  the  criticisms 
of  others.  And  when  we  produce  in  the  outer  world  the 
physical  result  of  our  hypotheses,  we  need  others  to  observe 
these  results  and  to  test  our  perceptions  as  well  as  our 
ideas.  Apart  from  general  presuppositions  as  to  the  nature 
of  the  universe,  the  background  condition  of  all  truth  is 
social,  and  its  ultimate  criterion  is  the  survival  of  the 
society  to  which  the  individual  belongs,  a  result  brought 
about  by  its  improved  external  or  internal  adaptations. 

These  few  and  scattered  remarks  on  the  general  char- 
acter of  reasoning  may  serve  as  a  hint  of  the  pragmatic 
point  of  view  in  logic,  already  ably  worked  out  in  this 
country  by  Professors  Pierce,  Dewey,  James,  Moore,  and 
others.  This  point  of  view  is  doubtless  of  service  in  all 
branches  of  education,  but  its  value  is  nowhere  plainer  or 
more  emphatic  than  in  the  teaching  of  science.  It  is  also 
nowhere  more  needed. 

Science  teaching,  after  having  stimulated  laboratory  and 
research  methods  in  other  subjects,  has  reverted  in  many 
quarters  to  an  inadequate  classical  treatment  in  its  own 
field.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  older  disciplines  have 
been  at  work  for  centuries,  it  was  to  be  expected  that 
the  conscious  and  unconscious  methods  they  pursued 
should  have  arrived  at  a  high  degree  of  excellence.  These 
methods  are,  however,  quite  unsuited  for  transfer.  The 
[173] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

same  kind  of  training  is  not  to  be  expected  ;  and  although 
classics  and  their  allied  subjects  may  develop  reasoning  and 
observation  as  well  as  memory  and  imagination,  it  is  a  dif- 
ferent phase  of  reasoning  from  that  which  properly  obtains 
in  the  sciences.  Perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  it 
would  be  better  to  teach  less  science  than  to  fail  to  have  it 
fulfill  its  characteristic  ends. 

To  a  class  containing  seventeen  high-school  graduates 
of  Boston  and  vicinity,  who  had  taken  physics  (all  young 
women),  I  recently  described  a  lesson  given  in  a  third- 
grade  class.  For  this  lesson  the  teacher  had  rigged  up  in 
the  basement  a  rude  windlass  with  a  rope  running  along 
the  floor.  The  children  were  allowed  to  handle  the  appa- 
ratus, and  they  easily  discovered  that  the  rope  could  be 
wound  up.  At  this  point  the  teacher  proposed  to  one  boy 
that  he  might  see  if  he  could  wind  up  the  rope  with  some 
one  holding  back  on  it.  He  chose  a  boy  of  his  size,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  it  was  so  easy  to  do.  He  then  tried  two, 
and  so  on  till  he  came  to  six.  Here  he  stuck,  but  he  said 
that  if  the  handle  were  closer  up  to  the  axle  he  could  pull 
up  more,  as  he  could  run  it  round  faster.  The  teacher  for- 
tunately recognized  this  idea  as  the  true  budding  of  scien- 
tific method,  and,  instead  of  ignoring  it  or  deciding  upon 
its  merits  dogmatically,  called  the  attention  of  the  rest  of 
the  class  to  the  statement,  without  indicating  whether  she 
agreed  with  it  or  not.  In  the  language  of  the  logician,  the 
boy  had  stated  a  working  hypothesis.  About  half  the  class 
thought  the  boy's  idea  was  right.  In  order  to  test  his  hy- 
pothesis, the  boy  proposed  to  bore  a  hole  halfway  up  the 
bar  to  which  the  handle  was  attached,  and  thus  bring  it 
closer  to  the  axle.  An  augur  was  obtained  and  this  was 
[174] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

done.  At  this  point  in  telling  the  story  I  stopped  and 
asked  the  seventeen  high-school  graduates  if  they  knew 
what  was  going  to  happen.  Only  one  claimed  to  know, 
although  another  said  that  if  she  had  the  formula  she 
thought  she  could  work  it  out.  The  rest  were  in  doubt 
as  to  what  the  result  of  the  experiment  would  be. 

This  is  not  an  exceptional  case,  so  far  as  my  knowledge 
of  high-school  graduates  goes ;  and  the  answers  to  certain 
questions  of  the  dean  of  the  Brooklyn  Polytechnic  Insti- 
tute, relating  to  matters  of  common  observation  of  nature, 
indicate  that  such  a  condition  of  affairs  is  widespread.  The 
fault  is  not  to  be  laid  wholly  at  the  door  of  a  lack  of  work 
or  ability  on  the  part  of  either  high-school  teachers  or 
pupils.  It  is  due  rather  to  the  narrowness  with  which  prep- 
aration for  college  has  been  made,  and  to  the  consequent 
exclusion  of  free,  self-organized  work.  The  result  is  that 
independence  and  self-reliance,  either  of  reasoning  or  ob- 
servation, and  the  spontaneous  love  of  nature  which  these 
spring  from  and  engender,  are  not  encouraged  by  the 
school,  and  in  some  cases  are  actually  blighted  by  its 
influence.  Secondhand  knowledge  is  peddled  out  by  the 
teacher  in  the  shape  of  laboratory  directions  in  lectures, 
through  a  text-book,  or  in  catechetical  form.  The  appeal 
for  facts  is  not  made  to  nature  but  to  the  teacher,  who, 
when  he  gets  as  far  as  asking  the  pupil  what  he  thinks, 
frequently  furnishes  the  conclusions  ready-made  by  telling 
him  whether  he  is  right  or  wrong.  In  such  conditions, 
instead  of  studying  nature  the  pupil  is  studying,  in  stupid 
and  roundabout  fashion,  the  mind  of  the  teacher,  and  is 
not  being  helped  to  investigate  for  himself.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  facts  are  sufficiently  convincing,  the  pupil  does 
[175] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

not  ask  the  teacher  whether  the  idea  is  right  or  wrong. 
When  the  little  boy  in  the  case  above  mentioned  had 
placed  his  handle  nearer  the  axle,  he  soon  found  that  he 
could  pull  up  fewer  boys  than  before.  His  hypothesis, 
useful  while  it  lasted,  had  been  disproved  by  facts,  and  he 
did  not  need  to  turn  to  the  teacher  and  ask  whether  he 
had  been  right  or  wrong.  How  many  science  pupils  in  the 
high  schools  ever  get  so  far  as  to  have  an  hypothesis,  or, 
if  so,  have  the  still  more  illuminating  experience  of  seeing 
it  either  proved  or  disproved  by  actual  facts  ? 

In  the  elementary  schools  it  is  still  rarer  than  in  the 
high  schools  to  find  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  value 
of  true  hypothesis  and  experiment.  The  teacher  usually 
seems  to  have  it  all  previously  arranged,  running  the  course 
of  nature  with  one  hand  and  her  class  with  the  other.  A 
lesson  I  observed  in  a  third  grade  by  a  teacher  in  training 
illustrates  a  very  general  practice.  The  teacher's  subject 
was  condensation  and  evaporation,  and  she  very  piously 
knew  just  what  she  was  going  to  do  in  that  half  hour.  She 
lit  a  spirit  lamp,  put  a  dish  over  it,  and  asked  the  children 
to  say  what  they  observed.  She  was  a  very  young  teacher, 
and  she  asked  this  question  a  little  too  soon.  The  children 
held  up  their  hands,  but  she  told  them  to  wait  a  little,  as 
they  couldn't  see  yet  what  she  wanted  them  to  see.  Later 
on  the  children  saw  "steam,"  or  water  vapor,  coming  off 
from  the  water.  "That's  right,"  said  the  teacher.  "Where 
else  have  you  seen  this  ?  "  "  From  horses,  locomotives,  off 
sidewalks,"  etc. ;  the  teacher  responding,  "  That's  right,"  or 
indicating  her  approval  or  disapproval  by  other  words  or 
signs.  In  this  way  she  led  the  children  to  say  that  "  Heat 
turns  water  into  steam."  This  she  wrote  on  the  board. 
[176] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

She  then  brought  in  a  bottle  which  had  been  cooling  out- 
side the  window,  and  turned  it  round  in  the  steam.  The 
children  saw  the  water  on  it.  "  Where  does  the  water  come 
from  ?  "  "  From  the  steam."  "  Quite  right."  The  ques- 
tions and  answers  went  on  for  a  little  while.  I  interrupted 
and  asked  the  children,  "  What  would  happen  if  I  should 
put  the  pan  of  water  (which  had  been  left  aside  meanwhile, 
and  had  stopped  steaming)  outside  the  window  where  the 
bottle  came  from  ? "  They  did  not  know.  One  pupil  said 
he  didn't  think  anything  would  happen,  but  he  should  like 
to  try  it.  I  let  him  take  the  pan  to  the  window,  when  great 
clouds  of  steam  came  off.  Here  I  retired  without  writing 
on  the  board,  "  Cold  turns  water  into  steam,"  although  the 
same  kind  of  procedure  that  had  been  applied  in  the  first 
place  would  have  justified  me  in  doing  so. 

The  fault  in  the  practice  of  the  teacher  above  described 
is  not  in  her  directing  the  children's  attention  to  certain 
facts  by  means  of  the  experiment  she  brought  in,  or  in  her 
asking  for  observations  the  children  had  previously  made. 
Her  fault  lay  in  her  treatment  of  the  statement,  "  Heat 
turns  water  into  steam."  Leaving  aside  the  way  this  was 
led  up  to  and  suggested,  as  soon  as  expressed  it  was 
pounced  upon  and  stamped  as  right,  evidently  because  it 
was  the  statement  the  teacher  had  been  looking  for.  All 
other  statements  as  to  cause  she  was  evidently  prepared  to 
ignore  or  reject.  This  one  she  really  treated  as  a  proved 
conclusion,  and  not  as  a  working  hypothesis  which,  in 
order  to  play  its  part,  ought  to  have  been  definitely  related 
to  the  previous  facts  that  had  been  mentioned,  and  should 
have  been  expected  to  stimulate  the  observation  of  new  facts 
and  the  production  of  rival  hypotheses.  When  something 
[177] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

of  the  latter  kind  is  not  done,  the  children  feel  that  the 
exercise  is  a  sort  of  guessing  game,  a  conundrum  to  which 
only  the  teacher  knows  the  answer ;  and  even  after  they 
have  obtained  it  they  are  left  in  such  a  position  that  they 
are  not  able  to  defend  their  conclusion.  The  procedure  in 
such  a  case  may  review  facts  of  observation  and  put  ready- 
made  conclusions  into  the  children's  minds,  but  it  fails  to 
give  them  the  independence  and  self-reliance  necessary  to 
treat  novel  data,  which  is  an  essential  of  inductive  reasoning. 
To  get  this  independence  some  wonder  must  be  aroused  in 
the  child's  mind.  The  question,  moreover,  must  be  put  in 
such  a  form  that  he  can  get  the  answer  by  a  new  search 
for  facts  either  directly  observed  or  obtained  through  wit- 
nesses that  he  has  good  reason  to  believe  are  reliable. 

"  To  what  extent  can  children  reason  at  a  given  age  ? " 
is  a  problem  which  ought  to  be  conscientiously  studied  by 
every  teacher.  This  is  not  usually  done.  The  question  is 
much  more  frequently  settled  beforehand  by  saying,  "  We 
do  not  expect  children  to  reason  so  at  this  age,"  or  "We 
now  expect  them  to  be  able  to  reason  out  this  or  that  for 
themselves." 

Real  reasoning  of  an  independent  character  is  frequently 
regarded  as  too  unattainable  for  ordinary  children  and  ordi- 
nary teachers.  Reasoning  is  much  more  truthfully  and 
profitably  to  be  regarded  as  an  instinct  of  a  very  funda- 
mental kind,  —  one  which  is  found  to  a  certain  degree  in 
many  of  the  lower  animals  and  at  the  beginning  of  men- 
tal life  in  the  child.  It  is  in  its  rudiments,  as  Dantec  says, 
"the  hereditary  resume"  of  ancestral  experiences  covering 
thousands  of  ages  during  which  our  ancestors  rubbed  up 
against  the  outside  world."  The  early  races  of  men  did 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

not  fail  to  reason.  It  was  by  means  of  their  reasoning  that 
we  have  the  present  advantage  of  civilization.  The  inven- 
tion of  fire,  of  various  tools,  of  the  first  canoe,  the  discovery 
of  death  as  a  natural  fact,  etc.,  represent  greater  triumphs 
of  reasoning  than  many  of  the  more  elaborate  inventions 
and  conclusions  of  the  present  day,  which  would,  moreover, 
be  impossible  without  their  early  forerunners.  We  should 
expect  reasoning  of  a  certain  kind  quite  early  instead  of  late 
in  the  child's  development ;  and  if  we  observe  the  child  out 
of  school  rather  than  in  it,  we  are  frequently  struck  not  only 
with  the  persistence  of  his  inquiries  and  investigations  but 
with  the  extent  of  them.  The  child  likes  to  reason,  and  it 
is  by  means  of  his  reasoning  that  he  develops. 

This  reasoning,  however,  has  some  features  of  its  own. 
Like  the  reasoning  of  primitive  people,  that  of  the  child  is 
necessarily  related  to  his  experiences,  and  he  must  not  be 
tested  on  data  which  he  feels  do  not  have  a  direct  bearing 
on  his  interests  in  life.  These  interests  are  of  course  much 
less  complicated  than  those  of  civilized  adults ;  but  within 
his  narrower  although  gradually  widening  range,  and  applied 
to  objects  he  can  handle,  his  conclusions  are  quite  likely 
to  be  correct.  His  reasoning  is  simple  because  his  experi- 
ence is  limited,  not  because  his  logic  is  defective. 

If  this  is  true,  the  part  of  the  science  teacher  would  be 
to  widen  the  child's  experience  while  keeping  within  the 
grasp  of  his  independent  reasoning  capacity.  We  are  not 
really  widening  the  child's  experience  in  this  sense  when 
we  merely  interest  him  in  facts  which  are  given  him  ready- 
made,  without  inquiry  or  hypothesis.  Many  children,  if 
asked  what  shape  the  earth  is,  will  say,  "  It  is  round  " ;  but 
if  one  enters  into  conversation  with  them  and  finds  out 
[179] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

their  actual  point  of  view,  one  soon  discovers  that  they  do 
not  believe  it  is  round  at  all.  The  facts  they  observe  go 
against  the  hypothesis,  and  they  are  sufficiently  truthful 
and  sufficiently  logical  in  the  depths  of  their  minds  not  to 
admit  the  unproved  statement,  however  glibly  they  may 
conform  outwardly  to  the  demands  of  the  teacher  or  the 
adult  world.  A  great  many  things  that  go  by  the  name  of 
science  are  of  this  hearsay  type. 

This  does  not  mean  that  the  child  should  repeat  the 
whole  history  of  the  race  and  find  out  everything  for  him- 
self without  the  advantage  of  stored  experience.  Quite  the 
contrary.  To  be  able  to  sift  evidence  offered  by  others  is 
a  necessary  phase  of  investigation,  but  the  criterion  of  any 
such  process  is  actual  primary  experience.  If  one  is  really 
reasoning,  this  very  reasoning  will  itself  decide  in  any  given 
case  whether  it  is  more  economical  to  get  the  facts  directly 
or  by  the  cross-examination  of  witnesses.  If  the  child  is  to 
be  helped  to  reason,  it  is  part  of  his  training  in  judgment 
to  decide  how  much  of  one  method  and  how  much  of  the 
other  is  suitable  in  various  situations.  If  the  child  is  to 
gain  any  power  in  reasoning,  he  must  be  allowed  to  use  the 
reasoning  power  he  already  has,  and  must  not  be  told  by 
the  teacher  in  the  cases'  chosen  that  this  or  that  is  right 
or  wrong.  He  must  learn  to  study  the  facts  themselves, 
rather  than  to  be  able  merely  to  repeat  what  teacher  or 
text-book  says. 

The  main  difficulty,  as  above  suggested,  is  to  get  down 
to  the  child's  real  point  of  view,  to  go  with  him  as  far  as 
he  is  able  to  go,  and  not  to  force  him  to  go  farther.  A  little 
four-year-old  girl,  walking  with  her  father,  came  across  some 
toadstools  growing  in  the  woods.  "  Oh,  look  at  the  little 
[180]. 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

tables !  "  she  said.  The  teacher  who  cares  neither  for 
science  nor  the  child's  point  of  view,  if  asked  at  this  point 
what  she  would  do  or  say,  is  likely  to  give  the  reply  I 
recently  received  from  a  teacher,  "  I  should  tell  the  child 
as  quickly  as  I  could  that  they  are  not  tables,  but  toad- 
stools." To  follow  the  child's  lead  and  get  her  whole  point 
of  view,  one  would  need  to  say,  "  Yes,  let  us  look  at  them." 
Wonder  is  a  main  ingredient  in  the  child's  state  of  mind  at 
this  juncture.  If  the  father  feels  some  of  this  wonder  him- 
self, it  will  be  easier  for  him  to  get  the  child's  point  of 
view.  "  I  wonder  how  these  little  tables  came  here,"  she 
says.  "  Perhaps  there  are  some  little  people  who  put  them 
here,"  her  father  says,  guessing  at  what  she  means.  Both 
father  and  child  are  working  on  the  same  stream  of  thought, 
and  it  makes  little  difference  which  of  them  expresses  the 
thoughts  that  come.  The  father  may  express  the  child's 
thought,  or  the  child  may  express  her  own.  The  father 
may  even  express  his  own  thoughts  in  so  far  as  they  are 
not  accepted  authoritatively.  Let  us  trace  a  possible  devel- 
opment, although  many  others  are  equally  possible  and 
some  perhaps  more  probable.  "  If  there  are  little  people, 
I  wonder  where  they  are."  "  Perhaps  they  hide  in  the  day- 
time." "  But  all  these  little  tables  are  not  alike ;  here's  one 
that  has  a  top  like  a  ball,  and  not  like  a  table."  "  If  the 
little  people  come  out  in  the  night,  or  when  we're  away, 
I  wonder  if  we  could  see  them."  "  I  am  afraid  they  might 
hear  us  coming  and  hide."  "I  wonder  what  they  use  the 
one  like  a  ball  for."  "What  do  they  make  their  tables  out 
of?"  "Well,  let's  go  now,  and  we'll  come  back  and  see 
them  to-morrow."  "  Why,  here  they  are,  and  the  round  one 
is  flat  like  the  others.  The  little  people  must  have  been 
[181] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

here."  "  Let's  take  another  round  one  and  put  a  box  over 
it  and  big  stones  on  top,  so  that  the  little  people  can't 
move  it,  and  then  let  us  leave  it  and  come  back  again." 
"  Here's  the  box  again  and  the  stones  on  it,  just  as  we  left 
them."  But  when  the  box  is  taken  off,  the  child  sees  the 
little  flat  table  just  as  before.  "  It  can't  be  the  little  people. 
It  must  be  something  else.  Perhaps  there  are  no  little 
people,"  etc. 

We  have  imagined  the  latter  part  of  this  experience, 
rather  than  kept,  as  we  have  done  in  the  other  instances, 
to  actual  cases,  because  the  mental  picture  of  what  may 
happen  is  necessary  to  the  teacher,  and  an  instance  of  it 
is  not  out  of  place.  No  doubt  such  a  piece  of  imagination 
is  visionary  ;  and  if  the  teacher  intended  to  make  this  vision 
come  true  in  its  details,  or  expected  the  child  to  walk 
along  this  path  and  fall  into  this  particular  trap,  as 
Rousseau  would  doubtless  have  suggested,  he  would  be 
missing  the  whole  drift  of  the  present  argument.  If,  at 
any  point,  either  the  child  or  the  teacher,  working  in  the 
child's  stream  of  thought,  can  get  a  hint  of  a  more  direct 
way  to  a  satisfactory  explanation,  it  should  be  adopted  at 
once.  All  real  short-circuiting  is  intellectually  an  advantage. 
We  have  here,  however,  the  case  of  a  child  only  four  years 
old,  who,  we  have  presumed,  has  not  yet  attained  a  con- 
ception of  growth  as  applied  to  plants.  This  should  not 
seem  strange  when  we  remember  that  the  Indians  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  region  could  not  be  persuaded  to  plant  beans 
because  they  had  never  observed  and  could  not  believe  that 
plants  grew  from  a  seed.  If  this  is  the  experience  which 
will  yield  a  conception  of  growth  strong  enough  to  meet 
the  other  natural  hypotheses  in  the  field,  then  we  should 
[182] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

not  be  devoting  too  much  energy  to  this  work  if  twice  the 
time  needed  in  the  above  process  were  required. 

At  the  same  time,  whether  a  child  reaches  a  given  con- 
clusion to-day  or  next  year  is  not  the  most  important  point. 
The  important  thing  is  that  he  makes  a  real  advance,  and 
not  an  illusory  one ;  that  the  old  point  of  view  really 
changes  into  a  new  point  of  view  for  good  and  sufficient 
reasons  and  because  of  facts  that  can  be  obtained.  To 
force  him  to  change  it  is  like  committing  an  assault  upon 
the  child.  It  is  not  helping  his  reasoning  power,  but  killing 
it.  That  the  child  should  remain  at  what  we  call  the  myth- 
ical point  of  view  for  years  is  to  be  expected.  If  he  doesn't 
care  to  take  the  trouble  to  help  get  the  box  and  stones  to 
prove  or  disprove  his  hypothesis,  there  need  be  no  regret 
on  the  part  of  his  teacher.  The  land  of  myth  is  a  goodly 
land.  The  science  teacher  ought  to  know  his  way  in  it.  It 
is  not  simply  a  land  of  imagination  ;  it  is  also  one  of  reason- 
ing. When  both  imagination  and  reasoning  get  more  vig- 
orous, they  become  sharper  and  more  skeptical,  and  both 
are  carried  to  a  higher  stage.  It  is  a  process  of  growth. 

The  danger  is  that  with  our  too  prevalent  centrally 
authorized,  secondhand  science,  the  power  of  growth  is 
checked  ;  and  this  so-called  science  becomes  worse  than 
myth,  since  it  is  not  backed  up  by  things  as  they  appear, 
even  superficially,  nor  does  it  offer  an  explanation  of  them 
capable  of  being  defended  by  the  pupil.  Instead,  it  is 
hooked  on  adventitiously  in  the  memory,  useful  only  at 
times  of  examination  for  a  grewsome  display,  and  because 
such  exhibitions  are  fashionable. 

How  can  the  teacher  proceed  so  that  he  really  gets  the 
child's  point  of  view  and  develops  this  along  its  own  lines  ? 
[183] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

This  is  comparatively  easy  if  the  teacher  is  not  obsessed 
by  his  own  preconceived  lesson  plan  or  course  of  study, 
scheduled  to  pass  certain  way  stations  and  arrive  at  the 
terminus  on  the  hour  of  the  day  and  at  the  season  of  the 
year  duly  stated  in  the  time-table.  To  dispense  with  such 
an  obsession,  however,  is  not  to  get  rid  of  planning :  it  is 
to  make  the  planning  larger  and  better  suited  to  the  mental 
growth  of  the  child.  An  example  of  what  can  be  done  by 
mere  beginners  may  be  of  benefit.  The  training  class  in  a 
city  Normal  School  recently  attempted  the  problem  of  the 
lesson  on  steam  already  described,  their  main  idea  being 
to  see  to  what  extent  the  children  could  reason.  Some  of 
their  experiments  were  tried  in  classes  and  some  with  little 
groups  at  home,  with  about  the  same  result.  In  the  case 
of  the  groups  at  home,  the  children  were  free  to  leave  if 
they  wished.  "  To  what  extent  would  my  pupils  stay  with 
me  if  they  were  free  to  leave  ?  "  might  be  a  very  profitable 
test  question  for  every  teacher  to  ask  himself.  In  the  fol- 
lowing report  of  one  of  these  lessons,  selected  for  its  brevity 
and  not  in  any  way  exceptional,  the  preliminary  account  of 
the  way  of  approach  is  also  inserted  : 

My  experience  in  approaching  children:  A  close  acquaintance 
with  a  child  and  his  ways  is  essential  when  trying  to  get  good  rea- 
soning from  him.  When  I  began  I  did  not  think  this  necessary.  I 
now  ask  as  few  questions,  and  these  in  as  unoffending  a  manner  as 
possible.  In  this  way  I  get  the  children  to  take  the  part  of  the  teacher, 
and  find  that  they  give  eagerly  whatever  knowledge  they  have.  Many 
a  child's  reasoning  powers  blazed  forth  with  a  brilliancy  that  was 
remarkable.  The  children's  quaint  sayings  are  full  of  conclusions 
drawn  from  an  imaginative  brain. 

Experiment  with  steam  :  I  put  some  cold  water  into  a  pan,  and  as 
I  placed  it  over  the  gas  I  asked  a  child  what  she  thought  would 
happen.  After  thinking  for  a  moment,  she  said  smoke  would  come 

[184] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

off.  When  the  water  began  to  boil,  she  pointed  to  the  vapor  and  said 
that  was  smoke.  "  Where  does  it  come  from  ?  "  "  From  the  water," 
was  her  answer.  "  It  came  from  the  water  because  there  was  a  fire 
under  the  water,  making  it  burn."  "  Do  you  think  that  smoke  is  the 
same  as  the  kind  that  comes  from  burning  paper  ? "  I  asked  her.  "  Yes, 
of  course,"  she  replied.  When  the  paper  was  burned,  she  said  that  the 
smoke  of  the  burning  paper  seemed  thicker,  drier,  and  did  not  burn 
her  hand  when  she  held  it  over  it.  "  Smoke  from  the  water  was  wet," 
she  said.  A  piece  of  cold  glass  held  over  the  boiling  water  showed  that 
there  was  dampness  in  the  "smoke  "  from  the  water  ;  and  by  tasting  the 
liquid  on  the  glass,  the  child  found  that  it  was  water.  That  nothing 
would  happen  when  the  pan  of  warm  water  was  put  outside  the  win- 
dow was  the  child's  theory.  When  the  steam  came  off  she  said  that  the 
air  outside  must  be  making  the  water  hot.  I  told  the  child  to  feel  of 
the  air  and  then  of  the  water,  and  see  if  her  theory  was  correct.  "  No, 
it  must  be  the  cold  air  made  the  steam  show."  As  she  said  this,  she 
thought  that  maybe  the  same  thing  was  true  in  the  room.  To  her  delight 
she  found  that  it  was,  after  having  proved  it  by  several  experiences. 

Another  example  shows  the  reasoning  processes  of  the 
children  in  a  more  latent  condition,  and  gives  an  illustra- 
tion of  social  class  management  favorable  to  the  cultivation 
of  an  interest  in  science  ;  but  it  also  shows  the  application 
of  the  scientific  point  of  view  and  the  building  of  hypoth- 
eses applied  to  the  work  of  teaching  itself.  A  pupil  teacher 
of  some  experience  in  a  normal  training  school  proposed 
to  give  a  lesson  on  certain  birds  to  a  fourth-grade  class. 
He  had  prepared  the  lesson  on  Herbartian  lines.  The  ap- 
perceptive  masses  were  to  be  aroused  by  his  questions  on 
how  many  had  seen  birds  that  spring,  what  they  were  doing, 
etc.  He  would  then  bring  in  nests  that  he  had  collected, 
have  the  children  examine  them,  and  read  some  poems 
about  birds.  The  application  was  to  be  the  moral  evil  of 
robbing  birds'  nests,  despite  the  fact  that  he  was  exhibiting 
birds'  nests  himself. 

[185] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

The  lesson  was  really  so  good,  and  the  pupil  teacher  so 
intelligent,  that  the  superintendent  of  training  thought  it 
might  be  possible  to  get  something  better  than  this  dried- 
out  Herbartianism  into  the  young  man's  head.  So  he  said 
to  him  something  like  the  following :  "  What  do  you  need 
these  apperceptive  masses  for  ?  Are  they  not  simply  for  the 
purpose  of  understanding  the  new  material,  or  making  pos- 
sible the  new  processes  which  you  hope  to  arouse?  You 
are  going  to  try  to  have  the  children  braid  together  certain 
strands  of  experience  which  they  already  have,  so  as  to 
make  something  new ;  or,  to  change  the  figure,  their  ap- 
perceptive masses  are  like  little  hands  stretching  out  for 
something  to  fill  them.  The  new  experiences  you  hope  for 
are  the  closer  observation  of  the  bird's  nest,  the  wonder  aris- 
ing from  this,  and  the  love  and  admiration  that  will  sympa- 
thize with  the  bird  that  made  this  little  home.  Do  you  think 
you  need  to  go  through  so  many  preliminary  motions  ?  Do 
you  think  their  little  apperceptive  hands  are  so  benumbed 
that  they  need  to  have  their  joints  elaborately  stretched  to 
get  them  to  work  ?  If  a  boy  suddenly  sees  a  bird's  nest  on 
the  ground  or  in  a  tree,  his  apperceptive  masses  seem  to 
work  instantaneously.  He  doesn't  need  to  call  up  in  his 
mind  all  sorts  of  things.  They  are  there  already. 

"  Even  if  he  had  never  seen  a  bird's  nest  before,  there 
would  be  apperceptive  masses,  perhaps  all  the  more  eagerly 
stretching  out  for  satisfaction.  Questions  would  arise. 
What  is  it  ?  What  shall  I  do  to  find  out  ?  Let  me  touch 
it.  Let  me  look  at  it  on  every  side. 

"  The  apperceptive  mass  you  want  is  not  simply  previous 
knowledge,  but  it  is  that  knowledge  in  an  active,  organizing 
state.  There  must  be  intention  or  will  in  it.  Something 
[186] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

to  be  done  about  it  is  the  first  consideration.  You  do  not 
want  this  only  at  the  end  of  the  lesson  ;  you  want  it  even 
more  at  the  beginning.  And  surely  you  do  not  think  that 
the  mere  will  to  pay  attention  to  whatever  may  be  'pre- 
sented '  is  sufficient.  By  the  way,  what  was  it  that  started 
the  idea  in  your  own  mind  to  give  this  lesson  ? " 

The  young  man  replied  that  he  had  seen  some  birds 
building  their  nest  in  a  small  tree  a  little  distance  from 
the  school,  and  this  was  what  made  him  think  of  it. 

"Excellent.  Why  not  tell  the  children  this  to  start  with, 
and  say  what  now  comes  into  my  mind  :  '  I  wonder  if  any 
of  you  children  could  make  a  bird's  nest  like  the  one  I 
saw.'  Now  go  and  think  that  over  and  see  if  you  can 
imagine  what  the  children  are  likely  to  reply." 

He  returned  the  next  day,  and  had  imagined  quite  a 
variety  of  things  that  might  happen  if  he  asked  this  ques- 
tion. "  Well,"  said  the  superintendent,  "  all  of  these  lines  of 
imagination  are  good  hypotheses.  They  are  all  good  les- 
son plans,  although  they  do  not  seem  to  have  the  usual 
Herbartian  earmarks  projecting  too  strongly  from  the  head. 
Which  of  these  are  you  going  to  follow  ?  " 

The  young  man  said  that  he  could  not  say,  —  that  it  was 
a  problem  which  depended  on  the  facts,  or  on  what  the  chil- 
dren would  do  or  say,  —  but  he  felt  that  he  was  more  truly 
prepared  from  a  pedagogical  standpoint  for  having  thought 
out  not  one  cut-and-dried  course  but  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  mere  hypotheses.  He  also  made  his  preparations  of 
material,  books,  etc.,  to  cover  a  number  of  different  possi- 
bilities, and  when  he  started  his  work  he  found  that  several 
of  these  had  been  correctly  anticipated  by  him,  although 
new  ones  developed  which  he  had  naturally  failed  to  foresee. 
[187] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

When  he  got  before  his  class  and  asked  his  question,  he 
had  to  wait  a  little  for  the  answer.  But  a  brilliant  flash  of 
silence  is  sometimes  a  relief  in  the  schoolroom.  One  boy 
finally  said  :  "  I  don't  know  about  it,  —  you  see  the  birds 
have  bills  and  we  have  only  hands ;  but  if  I  had  a  needle, 
I  think  I  could  do  it."  Some  one  asked :  "What  kind  of  nest 
is  it  ?  Where  is  it  ?  "  The  teacher  told  them  the  exact  place. 
"  Why  can't  we  go  and  see  it  ? "  they  said.  The  teacher 
agreed,  and  a  short  excursion  was  forthwith  planned.  This 
was  something  the  teacher  had  thought  of  in  the  list  of  pos- 
sibilities, and  a  ladder  had  been  placed  near  the  door  of  the 
school.  The  children  carried  the  ladder  over  to  the  tree. 
There  were  about  twenty-five  of  them,  and  only  one  could 
go  up  the  ladder  at  a  time.  The  teacher  pointed  this  out 
before  they  left  the  schoolroom,  and  asked  what  they  would 
do  during  this  time.  A  plan  was  adopted,  suggested  by  the 
teacher,  that  as  soon  as  a  pupil  came  down  from  the  tree 
he  should  write  a  list  of  all  the  things  he  saw  that  the  bird 
had  used  in  making  its  nest,  and  that  afterwards  all  could 
compare  what  they  had  written.  No  plan  was  made  for 
those  who  stood  around  before  they  mounted  the  ladder. 

After  the  nest  had  been  seen,  nearly  every  one  thought 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  try  to  make  one,  and  then 
some  one  said :  "  The  bird  must  have  got  his  material  near 
here  somewhere.  Let  us  hunt  around  and  see."  They  did 
this,  and  soon  collected  large  quantities  of  dry,  dead  grass, 
which  they  raked  out  from  among  the  new  grass  coming  up ; 
they  found  bits  of  string  and  a  horsehair  or  two,  and  finally, 
some  distance  away,  they  came  upon  a  large  bunch  of  ex- 
celsior which  they  concluded  must  have  been  the  very  one 
the  birds  had  laid  under  contribution. 
[188] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

The  next  day  every  one  was  ready  to  make  a  nest,  and 
the  teacher  had  provided  little  branches  of  trees  which  he 
had  stuck  in  every  ink-well  aperture.  But  one  of  the  chil- 
dren proposed  that  they  should  go  outside  and  stick  the 
branches  in  the  grass,  where  they  could  work  better,  and 
that  they  should  work  two  by  two.  This  was  not  to  imitate 
the  birds,  but  simply  for  convenience  —  a  case  of  coopera- 
tion and  division  of  labor  which  proved  wholly  successful. 
The  teacher  had  provided  also  a  nest  belonging  to  the 
same  species,  which  the  children  could  examine  when  they 
wished.  They  finished  very  good  nests  in  the  half  hour. 
Some  of  them  were  firm  and  well  modeled,  and  at  a  little 
distance  could  hardly  be  distinguished  from  the  original. 

In  the  next,  or  third  lesson,  the  teacher  asked  them  if 
they  wished  to  know  anything  more  about  the  birds  whose 
nests  they  had  been  studying,  and  a  large  number  of  ques- 
tions were  asked.  In  asking  these  the  teacher  got  an  op- 
portunity, sanctioned  by  the  class,  to  read  at  least  one  of 
the  poems  he  had  in  mind,  and  to  impart  a  great  deal  of 
information  about  the  eggs,  the  probable  number  of  this 
species  in  the  locality,  their  winter  quarters,  their  enemies, 
etc.  The  children  were  so  much  interested  in  the  work 
that  of  their  own  initiative  they  proposed  making  some 
more  nests  of  a  different  species. 

Work  of  the  kind  just  described  starts  with  the  initiative 
of  the  teacher,  but  runs  out  immediately  into  work  which 
is  largely  cooperative  and  self-organized.  But  when  fully 
recognized,  self-organized  groups,  working  more  or  less  in- 
dependently, are  permitted,  the  point  of  view  of  the  chil- 
dren is  perhaps  even  more  easily  obtained.  As  an  example 
of  this  I  may  cite  the  following  case.  A  group  of  these 
[189] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

third-grade  boys  came  to  the  teacher,  saying  that  they 
wanted  to  find  out  if  ants  could  hear.  They  asked  her  to 
give  them  a  half  hour  of  the  school  time  which  had  been 
set  aside  for  such  purposes.  They  had  provided  themselves 
with  mouth  organs,  etc.  The  teacher  considered  that  the 
half  hour  would  not  be  wasted,  and  after  hearing  their  plan, 
and  perhaps  offering  some  criticism  and  advice,  gave  them 
permission.  They  reported  that  they  could  not  decide.  They 
had  counted  the  ants  that  came  up  out  of  the  hole  during 
the  sounding  of  the  various  instruments,  and  found  that 
there  were  about  the  same  number  as  when  there  were  no 
sounds  made,  although  one  boy  claimed  that  there  were  a 
few  more  and  that  perhaps  they  could  hear.  But  while  they 
gave  up  this  problem,  they  had  found  another.  Whether 
ants  could  hear  or  not,  was  a  question  which  could  wait  for 
solution ;  the  point  of  interest  now  was  whether  they  "went 
around  like  dogs,  by  smell,"  and  the  group  asked  for  more 
time  for  this  investigation.  It  was  the  springtime,  when  the 
ants  came  out  and  moved  around  their  holes  for  a  few  hours 
only,  in  the  warm  part  of  the  day.  The  boys  chose  a  hole 
near  a  large  flagstone  on  which  they  marked  with  chalk  the 
course  of  each  ant  that  came  out  of  the  hole.  They  made 
a  map  of  this  on  a  piece  of  paper  in  order  to  show  the  rest 
of  the  children  in  the  class.  After  the  ant  had  gone  a  cer- 
tain distance  they  touched  him,  and  in  many  cases  he  went 
back  into  the  hole.  They  found  that  when  the  ants  were  out 
about  two  or  three  feet  they  did  not  go  back  along  their 
track,  but  when  a  longer  distance  from  the  hole  they  did. 
The  latter  observation  supported  the  hypothesis  of  the  boy 
who  thought  it  likely  that  they  "went  around  like  dogs," 
while  the  former  observation  went  against  it.  As  the  hole 
[190] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

was  lower  than  the  flagstone,  the  hypothesis,  that  as  the  ants 
came  near  they  saw  the  hole,  was  excluded.  The  boy  who 
advanced  the  first  hypothesis  said  that  close  to  the  hole  there 
might  be  lots  of  tracks  made  by  other  ants  which  had  not 
been  marked,  as  there  were  a  great  many  more  ants  moving 
around  near  the  hole  than  farther  out,  and,  in  harmony  with 
this,  although  the  returning  ant  did  not  follow  his  track,  yet 
he  didn't  go  straight  to  the  hole  either.  Farther  out  there 
might  be  but  one  track  and  this  the  one  which  was  marked. 
The  theory  of  smell  was  accepted  as  demonstrated. 

They  returned,  however,  with  still  another  problem. 
They  had  been  poking  sticks  down  the  ants'  hole,  and 
wondering  how  far  down  it  went.  Some  weeks  before  this 
they  had  been  molding  candles  in  illustration  of  early  New 
England  life,  and  one  of  the  boys  said,  "  If  we  had  some 
candle  grease  and  poured  it  down  one  of  these  holes,  and 
then  dug  it  up,  we  would  see  where  it  went  to."  They 
expressed  this  to  the  teacher,  who  helped  them  to  get  some 
paraffin.  They  thought  they  ought  to  have  enough,  and 
provided  themselves  with  nearly  a  pint.  They  melted  this 
over  a  spirit  lamp  out  at  the  ants'  hole,  meanwhile  prevent- 
ing the  ants  from  going  in.  When  the  paraffin  was  melted, 
they  poured  it  down.  Nearly  the  whole  of  it  disappeared. 
Then  they  commenced  to  dig  the  cast  up,  carefully  follow- 
ing its  branches  in  every  direction.  The  discoverers  of 
Herculaneum  or  Pompeii  probably  had  no  greater  pleasure 
than  these  boys  in  unearthing  their  buried  city.  They 
broke  the  cast  somewhat,  but  put  it  together  as  best  they 
could,  took  it  into  the  class,  showed  it  and  explained  it, 
and  later  had  a  photograph  made  of  it  by  another  group 
of  boys  who  were  organized  as  a  photographic  group. 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Whether  Tarde's  hypothesis  that  all  reasoning  is  social 
is  correct  or  not,  there  can  be  little  question  that  social 
organization  greatly  stimulates  the  process  by  giving  the 
individual  reasoner  both  the  help  of  criticism  and  the  sense 
of  social  serviceableness  in  case  of  success.  Although  this 
whole  chapter  has  been  a  plea  for  what  is  called  independ- 
ent reasoning,  it  should  be  realized  that  what  is  aimed  at 
is  rather  a  displacement  of  the  exclusive  approval  of  the 
teacher  for  the  broader  social  interest  and  approval  of  the 
whole  class,  including  here  the  child  within  the  heart  of 
the  teacher.  The  judgment  of  his  peers,  even  when  unfav- 
orable, cannot  be  dispensed  with  by  any  reasoner.  If  it  is 
difficult  to  prove  that  it  is  always  society  which  reasons 
in  and  through  the  individual,  at  least  it  is  plain  that  he 
reasons  best  who  is  in  free  contact  with  a  social  environ- 
ment sufficiently  close  to  his  own  level  to  permit  of  his 
making  and  unmaking  its  opinions,  rather  than  being  con- 
stantly dominated  by  a  semi-supernatural  being  who  is 
always  right  —  even  when  he  isn't. 

And  yet  how  differently  "independent  reasoning"  has 
been  interpreted  by  many  teachers.  It  seems  to  have  been 
thought  that  the  direction,  "  Reason  this  out  by  yourself, 
—  do  your  problems  without  any  assistance,"  represented 
the  essence  of  good  pedagogy  in  the  matter.  It  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  generally  realized  that  a  social  motive 
on  the  part  of  the  child  is  necessary  for  the  best  results. 
Independence  is  in  reality  an  outcome  of  interdependence, 
and  becomes  differentiated  as  a  special  process  only  as  a 
social  economy.  Every  individual  should,  of  course,  carry 
any  process  or  product  as  far  as  he  can  without  persons 
waste  of  time  and  energy,  before  he  submits  it  to  society 
[192] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

either  as  a  service  to  them  or  in  the  hope  of  getting  help 
himself.  But  the  object  of  this  is  social,  and  the  social 
reactions  of  those  he  appeals  to  are  the  best  corrections  of 
a  tendency  to  be  too  dependent  on  others.  The  limits  of 
this  dependence  and  the  measure  of  economical  independ- 
ence he  can  only  learn  from  experience.  To  force  and 
exaggerate  independence  beyond  the  social  feeling  of  one's 
peers  is  to  make  it  false  and  vain,  and  leads  to  egoism 
rather  than  to  true  strength  and  power. 

Space  does  not  permit  us  to  deal  with  all  the  possible  or 
even  practicable  opportunities  for  reasoning  in  the  schools. 
A  few  words  may,  however,  be  permitted  on  arithmetic,  which 
is  a  kind  of  science,  and  which  has  long  been  supposed  to 
be  useful  in  educating  the  power  to  reason.  There  is  little 
doubt  but  that  this  subject  ought  to  offer  great  advantages 
in  this  direction,  and  there  is  equally  little  doubt  that  it 
seems  to  fail  very  largely  in  producing  the  expected  results. 

Several  years  ago  the  present  writer,  with  the  help  of 
some  of  his  pupils,  examined  two  schools  in  arithmetic. 
Thirteen  hundred  and  fifty  children,  from  the  third  grade 
up  to  the  eighth,  were  taken,  one  after  the  other,  into  a 
separate  room,  and  handed  a  tally  register  capable  of  count- 
ing up  to  a  thousand.  This,  as  the  reader  knows,  is  con- 
structed, although  only  about  the  size  of  a  large  watch, 
somewhat  like  the  register  for  ringing  up  fares  on  the 
street  cars.  The  children  were  interested  in  handling  the 
tally  register  and  experimenting  with  its  power  to  count. 
If  they  did  not  develop  this  interest  spontaneously,  they 
were  shown  how  the  instrument  worked. 

The  register  was  then  set  at  a  number  between  two  and 
three  hundred,  which  did  not  end  in  a  zero.  A  watch  was 
[193] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

pulled  out,  and  the  child  was  told  that  we  wished  to  see 
how  many  strokes  of  the  little  lever  he  could  make  in  a 
minute,  but  first  he  was  asked  to  read  off  the  number  with 
which  he  began.  If  this,  for  example,  was  232,  the  figure 
was  written  down  in  the  exact  middle  of  a  sheet  of  paper 
fourteen  inches  square.  The  child  was  then  told  to  go 
ahead.  As  the  reader  will  suspect,  it  was  soon  spread 
around  by  the  boys  and  girls  that  they  were  being  tested 
for  their  rapidity,  and  each  was  anxious  to  do  his  best.  No 
word  of  arithmetic  was  mentioned  to  either  teacher  or  pupil. 

When  the  minute  was  up,  the  child  was  stopped,  and 
with  apparent  carelessness  the  pencil  and  the  paper  with 
the  record  were  pushed  over  to  him,  and  with  the  last  record 
of  the  tally  register  in  his  hand,  he  was  asked,  "  Well,  how 
many  have  you  done  ? "  Except  for  a  few  decimals,  the 
examples  never  went  beyond  simple  adding,  subtracting, 
multiplying,  and  dividing,  but  examples  of  all  these  were 
found.  At  this  rate,  without  any  intelligence,  and  from  a 
calculation  of  mere  chance,  twenty-five  per  cent  of  the  cases 
ought  to  have  been  subtraction,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
percentage  never  fell  so  low  as  that.  The  table  on  the 
opposite  page  gives  the  percentage  of  pupils  of  each  grade 
who  put  the  larger  number  above  the  one  already  written 
on  the  paper  and  subtracted  the  smaller  one  from  it. 

The  question  of  why  the  drop  occurred  in  the  fifth  and 
sixth  grades  is  not  so  important.  It  came  out  in  both 
schools,  but  was  greater  in  one  than  in  the  other.  Doubtless 
a  still  larger  number  of  children  would  tend  to  flatten  out 
the  irregularities  of  the  curve  considerably.  The  important 
fact  is  the  total  number  who  divided,  added,  or  multiplied, 
instead  of  subtracting.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  work  in 
[194] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 


arithmetic  had  not  produced  a  great  deal  of  gumption  or 
reasoning  power  in  the  pupils  when  a  simple  problem  of 
this  kind,  although  a  little  outside  the  stereotyped  school 
requirements,  produced  such  disappointing  results. 

The  trouble  is  evidently  at  one  point.  The  experiment 
requires  the  pupil  not  merely  to  solve,  but  to  frame  the 
problem  to  himself.  He  has  not  simply  to  answer  the 

ri'oo* 


90* 
80* 
70* 
60* 
50* 
40* 
30* 
20* 
10* 


346678  GRADES 

question ;  he  has  to  ask  it.  He  needs  to  make  some  kind 
of  hypothesis  as  to  how  he  is  to  go  to  work,  and  if  the 
hypothesis  is  to  be  a  good  one,  he  must  compare  it  with 
other  possible  hypotheses  and  submit  them  both  to  the 
reasonableness  of  the  results  obtained.  The  children  who 
were  examined  probably  had  had  little  practice  in  this  kind 
of  thing  at  school.  Instead,  they  had  probably,  for  the  most 
part,  worked  out  examples  after  they  had  been  shown  how 
[195] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

to  do  other  examples  of  the  same  kind.  This  tends  to 
build  up  a  habit  which  is  often  wholly  unreasoning.  The 
essence  of  reasoning  is  lost  if  the  original  question  or 
hypothesis  is  not  developed. 

It  seems  plain  that  children's  work  in  arithmetic  ought 
to  be  derived  much  more  largely  than  at  present  from  their 
own  needs  and  their  own  spirit  of  inquiry  (cf.  case  of  arith- 
metic in  cooking  group,  page  109).  If  this  is  done,  the 
impress  of  their  actual  environment  will  usually  be  found 
in  the  questions  they  ask.  An  instance  of  this  may  be  cited 
from  the  work  of  a  seventh-grade  class  in  a  small  town. 
This  town  is  supplied  with  water  from  a  standpipe,  around 
which  the  children  had  often  played,  and  which  had  aroused 
their  admiration  on  account  of  its  large  size.  When  the 
teacher  asked  them  if  they  had  ever  wondered  about  any- 
thing that  perhaps  some  calculation  could  solve,  some  of 
them  said  that  they  had  wondered  for  a  long  time  how 
much  water  was  in  the  standpipe,  but  did  not  see  how  they 
could  find  out. 

The  teacher  did  not  take  it  upon  himself  to  show  offhand 
how  this  could  be  done.  It  may  be  that  he  was  not  very 
certain  himself.  But  since  every  one  was  willing  to  look 
into  the  question,  he  proposed  that  they  study  the  prob- 
lem overnight  and  see  how  far  they  could  get  with  it.  They 
knew  how  to  measure  cubical  contents  if  the  figures  were 
rectangular,  but  they  had  had  no  experience  with  cylin- 
drical bodies.  The  problem  was  to  invent  a  method,  if 
possible ;  or,  if  not  successful  in  this,  to  enumerate  as 
many  of  the  facts  as  they  saw  to  be  necessary. 

Next  day  all  of  the  class  thought  it  would  be  necessary 
to  get  the  height  and  the  diameter.  An  excursion  to  the 
[196] 


THE  TEACHING  OF  SCIENCE  AND  ARITHMETIC 

standpipe  was  made,  and  the  height  was  obtained  by  meas- 
uring the  lowest  sheet  of  cast  iron  of  which  it  was  built  and 
counting  the  number  of  sheets  to  the  top.  The  breadth  was 
obtained  by  measuring  across  the  shadow  cast  by  the  sun. 
These  methods  were,  of  course,  invented  by  the  pupils. 
Some  one  measured  the  circumference,  not  because  he 
knew  what  to  do  with  it,  but  because  he  thought  it  might 
possibly  be  needed. 

At  this  stage  the  problem  was  laid  by  for  some  days,  no 
one  seeing  what  to  do  next.  Then  an  hypothesis  was  brought 
up  by  one  boy.  If  it  were  a  rectangular  figure  of  the  same 
diameter,  the  contents  would  be  so  and  so,  or  if  we  cut  off 
the  corners  of  the  rectangle  and  added  the  opposite  corners 
together,  we  could  then  subtract  two  of  these  new  rectangu- 
lar figures  from  the  first  mass.  This,  at  least,  would  come 
somewhere  near  the  contents,  but  it  was  not  very  satisfactory. 

A  couple  of  boys  had  meanwhile  been  experimenting  with 
a  roughly  cylindrical  piece  of  wood.  They  split  it  longitu- 
dinally and  piled  it  as  cord  wood  is  piled;  and  then  they 
saw  that  if  they  could  only  make  the  pieces  fit  together, 
the  problem  would  be  solved.  A  piece  of  wood  was  split 
into  quarters,  these  divided  again  and  again,  and  the  pieces 
piled  together  so  that  they  fitted  to  each  other  like  wedges. 
After  doing  this,  the  boys  saw  at  once  that  this  pile  had  a 
height  equal  to  half  the  diameter,  a  width  equal  to  half  the 
circumference,  and  a  length  equal  to  the  original  length  of 
the  cylindrical  piece  of  wood.  The  application  of  this  bit 
of  experimenting  to  the  standpipe,  as  the  reader  sees,  was 
a  very  easy  matter. 

In  this  work  the  teacher  criticised  hypotheses  and  offered 
suggestions  only  in  the  spirit  of  self -organized  work,  without 
[197] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

expecting  them  to  be  adopted,  and  without  assuming  that 
the  problem  would  ever  be  solved,  or  that  he  as  teacher 
was  responsible  for  its  solution ;  nor  did  he  need  to  say 
when  the  work  was  done,  whether  the  answer  was  correct 
or  not. 

Science  and  arithmetic,  like  reading  and  writing,  are  in 
reality  arts  of  life  and  of  the  school.  It  is,  moreover,  the 
art  of  reasoning,  rather  than  the  dry  facts  of  science,  which 
is  best  capable  of  being  taught.  When  effective  social  ac- 
complishment of  some  kind  is  the  aim  placed  before  pupils, 
rather  than  the  passive  reception  of  facts,  not  only  does 
this  treatment  inspire  pupils  to  better  efforts,  but  permits 
the  teacher  to  act  as  their  helper  and  adviser  in  the  great 
art  of  living.  Society  and  the  teacher  may  act  as  causes  in 
putting  before  pupils  preferred  ideas  and  demands,  but  not 
until  the  pupils  can  reciprocate,  regard  themselves  as  crea- 
tive causes,  and  find  a  social  environment  which  they  can 
treat  as  an  effect  as  well  as  a  cause,  can  these  very  ideas 
and  demands  on  the  part  of  society  be  comprehended  and 
willingly  obeyed.  To  create  society  is  as  necessary  as  to 
be  created  by  it. 


[198] 


CHAPTER  IX 

READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

The  gap  between  life  and  the  school  is  nowhere  more 
apparent  than  in  the  teaching  of  reading,  language,  and 
literature,  and  yet  there  are  no  subjects  which  afford  a 
richer  educational  reward  when  the  aforesaid  gap  is  closed 
up  or  eliminated.  Ordinary  thinking  on  the  subject  of  the 
teaching  of  reading  has  got  so  far  as  to  recognize  that 
learning  to  read  means  the  use  of  a  language  for  the  eye, 
and  that  the  way  in  which  a  child  learns  the  spoken  lan- 
guage may  throw  some  light  on  the  way  in  which  he  can 
best  acquire  the  written  one.  W.  T.  Harris,  for  example, 
has  convincingly  shown  that  a  large  part  of  the  work  in 
school  consists  in  changing  the  ear-minded  pupil  into  one 
who  is  eye-minded. 

Reading  means  what  may  be  called  eye-mindedness,  but 
it  is  not  eye-mindedness  to  the  neglect  of  ear-mindedness. 
With  hearing  people  a  written  word  is  always  based  on  a 
spoken  one,  and  retains  its  connection  with  the  auditory 
experience  as  a  part  of  the  meaning  lying  back  of  the  sym- 
bol which  is  seen.  The  acquisition  of  eye  symbols  is  thus 
not  a  substitute  for  auditory  symbols  or  auditory  experi- 
ences. It  is  an  extension  of  them  which  reacts  upon  and 
actually  increases  the  refinement  of  the  auditory  experience. 

For  example,  a  person  may  read  silently  a  poem  which 
he  has  never  before  heard,  and  notice  rhythms  which  he 
[199] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

never  previously  experienced.  It  is  evident  that  there  is 
here  an  auditory  experience  underlying  the  recognition  of 
the  symbols  for  the  eye,  and  that  the  silent  reading  of  the 
poem  recasts  this  plastic  auditory  material  and  creates  some- 
thing new  out  of  it.  When  one  reads  a  poem  in  a  foreign 
language  which  he  has  never  heard,  although  he  may  un- 
derstand the  text,  he  usually  fails  to  get  the  pleasurable 
rhythms  that  should  belong  to  the  exercise.  This  is  not 
because  he  is  without  auditory  experience  of  ajrnental  char- 
acter, but  because  he  has  built  up  uncouth  auditory  experi- 
ences which  serve  as  stepping-stones  to  the  understanding 
of  the  visual  symbols.  This  may  have  been  done  without 
any  outward  sounding  of  the  words.  Put  in  another  way, 
he  reads  the  foreign  language  in  nearly  the  same  way  that 
he  would  read  his  native  tongue.  The  eye-mindedness  de- 
manded some  sort  of  ear  experience  as  a  prerequisite. 

When  deaf  people  learn  to  read,  the  case  is  different. 
There  is  no  preliminary  ear-minded  experience.  The  mean- 
ing of  the  visual  symbols  is  obtained  as  an  extension  of 
another  class  of  conventionalized  signs  largely  composed 
of  movements  which  are  built  up  by  a  direct  association 
with  objects,  actions,  and  various  experiences  of  life. 

If  this  is  true,  the  attempt  to  teach  hearing  children  to 
read  by  the  direct  association  of  the  visual  sign  with  action, 
objects,  etc.,  must  be  characterized  as  a  mistaken  effort,  — 
one,  however,  which  has  in  some  quarters  been  taken  seri- 
ously and  practiced  in  the  schools.  The  fact  that  in  such 
conditions  the  children  do  learn  to  read  is  no  disproof  of  the 
futility  of  the  theory.  If,  by  extra  enthusiasm  on  the  part 
of  the  teacher,  they  may  even  learn  as  quickly,  if  not  more 
quickly  than  in  other  ways,  there  is  still  no  disproof.  The 

[200] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

teacher,  for  example,  holds  up  an  apple,  or  performs  some 
action,  and,  without  saying  anything,  writes  the  word  apple 
or  the  name  of  the  action  on  the  board.  What  a  fond  illu- 
sion for  her  to  think  that  a  direct  association  has  been 
made  between  the  visual  idea  or  impression  of  the  apple 
and  the  written  word  !  What  happens  in  the  child's  mind 
is  probably  some  form  of  inner  conversation  :  "  What  does 
dear  teacher  mean  now  ?  Oh,  yes ;  she  wants  us  to  know 
that  what  she  has  written  stands  for  apple."  The  inner 
auditory  experience  has  been  revived,  somewhat  clumsily, 
no  doubt,  but  with  sufficient  effectiveness  in  most  cases. 

These  current  illustrations  of  perverse  applications  of 
the  laws  of  association  will  serve  to  show  the  direction  of 
their  true  use,  but  no  dependence  on  association  alone  will 
serve  to  solve  the  problem  of  reading  for  the  teacher.  The 
development  involved  in  learning  to  read  means  a  great 
deal  more  than  an  added  layer  of  eye-mindedness.  The 
problem  of  language  is  deeper  and  more  comprehensive, 
and  directly  involves  character  and  personality,  social  rela- 
tionships, power  of  interpretation,  beauty,  utility,  and  need 
of  expression.  These  somewhat  vague  conceptions  are  all 
controlled  by  the  idea  of  social  relationships.  For  the  stu- 
dent of  the  individual  child  this  resolves  itself  into  the 
necessity  for  a  stronger  motivation,  which,  as  Mr.  Reeder 
says  in  his  excellent  monograph,  constitutes  the  next  step 
forward.  The  aim  of  the  present  writer  is  to  show  that 
this  motivation  is  principally  social,  and  that  service  gladly 
given  and  eagerly  received  is  the  mainspring  of  progress 
in  learning  to  read. 

As  to  its  origin,  spoken  language  must  be  inferred  to  be 
primarily  a  social  phenomenon,  —  a  means  of  communication. 

[201] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

It  could  only  occur  when  a  considerable  degree  of  social 
organization  had  already  become  a  fact.  As  soon  as  it 
appeared,  there  was  nothing  that  acted  more  powerfully 
on  social  combination  itself.  Spoken  language  became  the 
vehicle  and  foundation  of  all  kinds  of  social  action.  Think- 
ing was  forthwith  lifted  from  the  animal  stage  of  the  per- 
cept to  the  human  one  of  the  concept.  Such  thinking  is 
necessarily  the  outcome  of  social  relationships,  and  involves 
the  use  of  a  conventional  sign  understood  by  others,  and 
representing  no  longer  an  outward  object,  but  an  aspect  or 
portion  of  it  capable  of  being  recognized  in  other  objects 
of  an  entirely  different  kind. 

If  we  follow  briefly  the  development  of  a  child's  speech, 
we  shall  see  that,  while  it  is  impulsive  and  inventive,  it  is 
also  socially  pragmatic  or  experimental  at  all  stages.  From 
the  beginning  it  involves  a  social  environment.  It  is  by 
noticing  the  effect  upon  others  of  the  sounds  he  makes 
that  the  child  slowly  learns  the  use  of  language  as  a  tool, 
and  only  in  proportion  as  he  can  use  it  upon  others  does 
he  appreciate  its  effect  upon  himself. 

Children,  when  learning  to  talk,  begin  with  a  twittering 
of  vowel  sounds,  and  very  soon  add  the  guttural  consonants. 
They  readily  respond  to  adults  in  their  own  way  by  the 
ninth  week.  This  is  as  yet  nothing  more  than  a  kind  of 
recitative,  more  like  music  than  language,  and  reminds  us 
of  the  fact  that  musical  sounds  are  probably  a  precursor 
of  speech  in  the  development  of  the  race  (1).  At  about  the 
same  age,  or  a  little  after,  they  also  initiate  sounds  for  the 
purpose  of  producing  an  effect  on  those  around  them.  By 
the  next  month  there  is  an  improvement  in  the  musical 
qualities  and  an  appreciation  of  rising  and  falling  inflection, 
[202] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

but  yet  without  words.  The  consonant  sounds  requiring 
the  front  of  the  mouth  and  lips  are  now  added ;  and  it 
is  to  be  noted  that  at  this  period  the  child  is  experiencing 
an  irritation  of  the  gums  due  to  the  cutting  of  his  lower 
incisors,  which  appear  about  the  seventh  month  and  take 
from  one  to  ten  weeks  to  erupt.  It  would  seem  likely  that 
this  is  what  brings  in  the  use  of  the  labials,  which  are  often 
made  rather  by  the  gums  and  lips  than  by  the  lips  alone. 

It  is  not  until  these  sounds  are  pretty  well  established 
by  practice  that  the  brain  is  sufficiently  developed  to  asso- 
ciate experiences  with  the  sounds  in  such  a  way  as  to  at- 
tach specific  meaning  to  them  (there  is,  of  course,  some 
meaning  as  mere  sounds  from  the  time  of  the  first  re- 
sponse). The  first  real  words  occur  about  the  ninth  month, 
when  the  upper  incisors  are  giving  trouble.  Bye-bye  is 
sometimes  a  first  word.  Di-di,  pa-pa,  and  mam-ma  are  often 
the  first.  These  are  words  requiring  the  use  of  the  frontal 
part  of  the  mouth.  Let  us  study  the  possible  origin,  in  the 
experience  of  the  child,  of  one  of  these  words,  and  we  shall 
see  that  its  use  is  probably  neither  a  matter  of  pure  imita- 
tion nor  of  invention,  but  a  process  requiring  the  coopera- 
tion of  both  the  effort  of  the  child  and  its  interpretation 
on  the  part  of  adults. 

Let  us  take  the  word  mamma,  which  many  children  use 
as  a  name  for  "  mother."  The  usual  view  is  that  they  hear 
this  and  imitate  it.  The  name,  however,  is  widespread  in 
many  languages,  and  may  have  some  deeper  origin  than 
foresight  on  the  part  of  parents,  who,  realizing  the  need  to 
be  called  something,  invented  this  word  as  a  suitable  name. 
The  exceptions  throw  some  light  on  the  process  at  work. 
A  child  recently  reported  to  the  present  writer  called  his 
[203] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

mother  ga-ga,  a  word  which  was  accepted  and  used  in  later 
life  as  a  pet  name.  I  found  that  this  child  began  to  cut  his 
front  teeth  quite  late.  Now,  why  did  this  child  say  ga-ga 
instead  of  mamma  ?  A  reasonable  hypothesis  is  at  once 
suggested.  The  probability  is  that  this  child  was  still  say- 
ing ka-ka,  ga-ga,  etc.,  when  most  children  are  engaged  on 
labials.  Let  us  continue  the  hypothesis  and  see  how  it  will 
fit  the  facts  which  may  have  been  present  at  the  time. 

The  baby  is  lying  in  his  crib  after  awaking,  and  cooing 
comfortably,  when  hunger  or  some  other  irritation  disturbs 
him.  As  this  increases  slowly,  the  cooing  changes  in  char- 
acter, without  any  intention,  but  simply  because  there  is 
an  overflow  from  the  center  of  the  disturbance  into  the 
processes  already  going  on.  The  noises  become  what  the 
adult  calls  more  fretful  or  angry,  and  at  the  same  time 
louder.  This  naturally  brings  the  mother.  If  the  baby  has 
not  yet  arrived  at  the  crying  stage,  but  is  still  making 
rather  loud  guttural  sounds,  the  mother,  as  she  rushes  in, 
imitates  these  sounds :  Ga-ga,  mother's  blessed  ga-ga," 
etc.  This  is  doubtless  repeated  many  times.  So  far  the 
sound  is  not  yet  a  name,  but  might  as  well  be  one  for  the 
baby  as  for  the  mother.  But  presently  the  baby  associates 
the  noises  he  makes  with  the  appearance  of  the  only  object 
of  the  environment  which  relieves  his  disturbance.  To  bring 
in  the  loud  sounds  sooner,  even  when  the  disturbance  is 
very  slight,  is  easy  because  the  pathway  is  already  formed. 
This  may,  indeed,  happen  automatically,  without  the  baby's 
intention,  but  when  it  does  happen,  the  mother  notices  the 
difference.  She  rushes  in  more  quickly  because  the  baby 
seems  to  be  calling  her.  She  repeats  the  call  word  with  an 
almost  festal  celebration.  It  becomes  attached  to  herself  in 
[204] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

the  baby's  brain,  and  may  afterwards  be  used  with  definite 
intention  because  he  knows  the  results  which  will  follow 
its  use. 

So  far  there  is  only  the  preparation  for  a  concept.  The 
conscious  process  includes  too  much,  and  in  another  way 
too  little.  Ga-ga  means  nothing  more  than  relief  from  dis- 
turbance. Others  beside  the  mother  will  answer  this,  and 
at  first  the  child  may  call  any  one  ga-ga.  By  a  similar 
process,  however,  the  particular  kind  of  relief,  and,  later 
on,  other  things  besides  relief,  even  repression  or  correc- 
tion, become  added  to  his  experience,  but  always  associated 
with  the  original  germ  from  which  they  have  grown.  The 
word  stands  now  for  a  whole  complex  of  social  relationships 
and  intercommunications  which  spring  to  the  mind  as  an 
apperceptive  mass  whenever  it  happens  to  be  thought  or 
spoken.  Still  later  it  may  be  applied  to  other  mothers,  and 
be  used  as  a  real  class  word,  defining  certain  relationships 
and  excluding  others.  This,  at  least,  happens  readily  in 
cases  where  the  same  kind  of  process  yields  the  word 
mam-ma  instead  of  ga-ga,  and  where  the  child  finds  other 
children  using,  with  a  different  personal  application  but 
with  a  similar  meaning,  the  same  word  which  he  himself 
has  learned  to  use.  The  finishing  of  the  word,  and  the 
finishing  of  the  concept  behind  it,  requires  a  social  en- 
vironment as  much  as  its  original  inception.  In  the 
development  of  its  latter  aspects  as  a  class  word,  the  ex- 
perience required  is  the  intermingling  with  other  people, 
particularly  those  on  the  same  level,  and  the  interpreta- 
tion of  their  slightly  different  standpoint.  It  requires  a 
community  as  a  presupposition.  Both  the  language  and 
the  thinking  are  social  functions. 
[205] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

In  this  process  the  uniqueness  of  the  individual's  expe- 
rience and  its  essential  solidarity  with  the  experience  of 
others  play  an  equal  part.  Neither  of  these  aspects,  how- 
ever, can  be  developed  without  actual  social  contact ;  that 
is,  without  the  expression,  and  at  the  same  time  the  recep- 
tion, of  another's  point  of  view.  Conception,  as  Baldwin 
claims,  may  doubtless  be  viewed  as  the  motor  side  of 
thought,  at  least  in  a  social  being.  Discussion  of  ideas 
that  people  actually  have  is  thus  necessary  to  the  devel- 
opment of  both  thought  and  language.  The  object  of  dis- 
cussion, moreover,  is  not  simply  to  find  the  similarities 
involved.  No  working  cooperative  similarities  of  experience 
are  found  without  also  revealing  differences.  To  find  the 
point  at  which  each  can  take  hold  in  his  own  way  of  the 
social  rope,  and  pull  with  others  for  the  good  of  all  and 
the  good  of  each,  —  this  is  the  aim  of  education  in  lan- 
guage as  in  other  spheres  of  culture. 

Unfortunately  many  teachers  seem  imbued  with  a  differ- 
ent notion.  Their  idea  of  teaching  is  not  one  in  which  the 
thoughts  and  characteristics  of  the  pupils  are  to  be  re- 
vealed, and  to  some  extent  exchanged,  but  one  in  which 
the  teacher's  thoughts  —  and  ironically  enough,  these  not 
always  his  own  thoughts  —  are  expected  to  play  an  enor- 
mously predominant  r61e.  Language  is  thus,  like  other 
subjects,  imposed  from  above,  and  even  when  the  pupil  is 
called  upon  to  "  express  himself,"  he  finds  that  he  is  com- 
municating nothing  of  interest  either  to  the  pupils  or  to  the 
teacher.  He  is  simply  exhibiting  his  paces  in  order  that  he 
may  be  corrected  by  his  master.  Nature,  however,  saves 
the  situation  for  the  social  spirit,  if  not  for  the  refinements 
of  language.  Many  children  who  know  the  rules  of  grammar 

[206] 


I 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

perfectly  well  would  be  ashamed  to  follow  them  with  their 
comrades.  Pupils  who  can  write  elegant  themes  for  the 
school  drop  most  of  what  they  seem  to  have  learned  when 
they  write  real  letters,  and  during  their  holidays  they  care- 
fully avoid  reading  the  same  kind  of  literature  which  they 
have  been  led  or  forced  to  read  at  school. 

To  advance,  however,  to  the  transition  from  spoken  to 
written  language.  The  question  of  how  or  when  children 
should  begin  to  use  written  or  printed  language  is  usually 
settled  for  them  without  much  reference  to  what  they  feel 
they  need.  No  doubt  any  single  individual,  so  long  as  he 
is  isolated  from  others,  would  never  wish  to  extend  his  lan- 
guage to  the  visual  form.  But  he  is  not  isolated,  and  in  a 
school  he  ought  to  be  favorably  situated  as  regards  social 
helpfulness  and  mutual  cooperation.  The  difficulty  in  teach- 
ing children  to  read  even  at  the  early  age  of  five  or  six  is 
not,  however,  so  great  at  the  beginning  as  a  little  later  on. 
The  child  brought  up  in  civilized  surroundings  is  frequently 
eager  to  learn  to  read,  and  will  go  through  a  good  deal  of 
drudgery,  and  even  unnecessary  drudgery,  to  get  hold  of  a 
power  which  he  sees  used  by  every  one.  He  already  real- 
izes a  good  part  of  the  social  importance  of  the  achieve- 
ment. This,  however,  tends  to  be  somewhat  abstract  and 
external,  appealing  rather  to  his  social  vanity  than  to  any 
deeper  feeling  of  personal  pleasure  and  satisfaction,  or 
increased  power  to  serve  others.  It  is  because  of  this  in- 
efficiency of  motive  that  reading  often  becomes  a  drudgery. 

There  ought,  therefore,  in  the  first  place,  in  everything 

the  child  reads,  to  be  some  immediate  satisfaction.    If  he 

works  hard  on  a  sentence  or  a  paragraph,  he  ought  to  get 

something  out  of  it.    Apart  from  his  general  satisfaction 

[207] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

in  overcoming  difficulties,  and  his  satisfaction  in  the  work 
as  bringing  him  nearer  to  his  desire  to  read  like  grown-ups, 
he  should  feel  that  every  sentence  or  paragraph  is  of  value 
for  its  own  sake.  It  ought  to  stir  a  desire,  satisfy  a  need, 
complete  a  picture,  give  valued  help  in  his  play,  or  be  of 
use  to  him  in  a  more  immediate  way.  The  succession  of 
sentences  or  paragraphs  ought  to  follow  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  help  one  another  and  build  up  his  growing  image.  In 
other  words,  the  arrangement  should,  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  child,  be  as  artistic  and  dramatic  as  possible. 

Very  much  the  reverse  seems  to  be  characteristic  of  most 
of  the  reading  lessons  in  our  primers,  as  well  as  of  the  other 
reading  material  which  teachers  use.  I  recently  observed 
a  characteristic  scene  in  a  first-grade  class  which  will  illus- 
trate this  feature.  The  teacher  had  made  for  the  children 
a  lesson  on  the  squirrel,  and  had  interested  them  by  a  little 
preliminary  talk.  She  then  wrote  the  first  sentence  on  the 
board  :  See  the  squirrel.  This  did  not  require  much  work, 
and  the  children  were  ready  for  the  second :  His  name 
is  Chippy.  There  were  two  new  words  in  this,  and  the 
effect  of  the  sentence  was  stimulating  and  attractive.  One 
little  boy  turned  round  to  the  rest  of  the  grade  (the  class 
was  standing  up  in  front),  and  whispered  the  news  with 
pleasure,  —  "His  name  is  Chippy."  It  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  suggestion  so  far  is  that  there  is  to  be  something  indi- 
vidual and  interesting  and  real  in  what  is  to  follow.  Expec- 
tation is  aroused.  The  next  sentence  was,  His  coat  is  red. 
The  "children  attacked  this  courageously,  but  when  the 
meaning  dawned  on  them  there  was  a  decided  loss  of 
interest,  and  the  teacher  had  to  begin  to  call  upon  them  to 
stand  straight  and  look  toward  the  board.  The  reason  of 
[208] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

this  seems  obvious.  The  sentence  did  not  carry  out  any 
of  the  expectation  that  had  been  suggested  by  the  previous 
one.  It  was  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable.  They  all  knew 
that  the  squirrel  was  red.  They  had  seen  the  picture  of  it, 
and  even  if  they  hadn't,  it  was  not  important.  As  to  its 
being  a  coat  instead  of  a  skin  or  fur,  this  was  a  figure  of 
speech  that  was  evidently  commonplace.  They  began  to 
feel  now  that  there  was  "nothing  doing,"  and  the  expec- 
tation of  a  romance  was  blighted.  The  next  sentence,  His 
tail  is  btishy,  completed  the  debacle,  and  there  was  hardly 
any  recovery  at  the  next  sentence,  —  He  lives  in  a  den, — 
which,  if  it  had  been  introduced  earlier,  might  have  seemed 
alluring.  As  this  lesson  went  on,  it  became  plain  that  the 
children  were  right,  —  there  was  nothing  in  it  to  reward 
them  for  the  labor  expended.  Children  are,  after  all,  like 
other  people  in  this  respect.  They  do  not  object  to  work, 
but  they  want  the  work  to  yield  a  return  proportionate  to 
the  effort  involved. 

One  essential  thing  about  all  interest,  and  therefore 
about  all  reading  and  literature,  as  suggested  above,  is  the 
expectation  it  arouses  as  to  what  is  to  follow.  This  is  an 
important  aspect  of  the  development  of  attention  and  the 
will,  and  when  it  is  neglected  children  are  being  taught 
to  recoil  from  work  rather  than  to  meet  it  with  courage. 
Even  if  they  are  forced,  or  led  by  extraneous  motives,  to 
do  what  is  required,  the  reflection  comes  later  that  in  itself 
it  was  not  worth  while.  This  is  most  disastrous,  and  is 
alone  sufficient  to  account  for  the  vulgar  newspapers  and 
other  cheap  reading  matter  which  the  masses  educated  in 
our  public  schools  instinctively  fall  back  upon  when  they 
are  free  to  direct  themselves. 

[209] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Let  us  take  a  piece  of  reading  matter  suitable  for  a  sec- 
ond or  third  grade,  and  see  how  this  sense  of  expectation 
can  be  utilized.  Let  us  suppose,  moreover,  that  the  teacher 
finds  a  certain  number  of  the  class  who  need  some  assist- 
ance in  order  to  arouse  their  expectation.  If  the  reader 
follows  the  lesson  without  skipping,  perhaps  putting  a  card 
over  the  lower  part  of  the  page  and  slowly  sensing  the 
meaning  of  the  words  printed  in  italics,  at  the  same  time 
imagining  what  is  to  follow,  he  will  get  an  idea  of  what 
the  children,  who  are  compelled  to  read  slowly  because 
they  are  working  hard,  may  be  experiencing. 

A  frog  saw  two  birds  flying  overhead. 

The  first  sentence  is  never  very  difficult  for  any  one,  so 
that  the  teacher  may  pass  on  without  remark.  There  are 
not  likely  to  be  any  stragglers. 

He  called  to  them  and  said: 

This  distinctly  arouses  expectation,  and  in  order  to  see 
that  every  one  gets  this,  the  teacher  may  ask,  "  What  do  you 
think  he  said  ? "  The  children  will  offer  various  answers. 
The  teacher  should  be  careful  not  to  show  that  he  approves 
or  disapproves  of  any  of  them.  These  answers  are  only 
hypotheses,  like  the  speculations  we  make  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  novel  as  to  how  it  is  going  to  turn  out.  If  the 
teacher  favors  any  of  the  answers,  there  will  be  less  need 
for  the  children  to  read  the  next  sentence  in  order  to  see 
for  themselves  who  is  right  or  nearest  being  right. 

"  Take  me  with  you" 

If  none  of  the  children  had  hit  upon  what  the  frog  said, 
it  may  be  still  more  interesting  than  if  they  had.  This 
depends  upon  whether  the  story  goes  the  children's  imagi- 
nation one  better  or  not. 

[210] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

"How  can  we?  "  said  the  birds.    "You  have  no  wings'' 

What  is  going  to  happen  now  ?  Perhaps  by  this  time 
something  further  on  than  the  next  sentence,  something 
of  the  drift  of  the  whole  story,  may  be  imagined  by  the 
children. 

"  /  will  show  you  how"  said  the  frog.  "  Here  is  a  stick. 
Let  each  of  you  take  hold  of  one  of  the  ends,  and  I  will  take 
hold  of  the  middle." 

This,  at  least,  raises  the  question  of  the  success  of  the 
plan,  and  the  children  will  readily  speculate  on  how  it  is 
going  to  turn  out. 

The  birds  did  as  they  were  told,  and  then  flew  off  with 
the  frog,  who  held  on  tightly  with  his  mouth. 

If  the  children  are  already  aroused  and  expectant,  it 
would  be  idle  to  pile  one  thing  on  top  of  another  and  delay 
further  by  asking  for  the  expression  of  their  ideas.  If  the 
teacher  sees  by  their  looks  that  they  are  working  well,  with 
enthusiasm  for  the  result,  this  is  a  good  time  to  go  right 
on  without  interruption. 

As  they  were  flying  over  a  field  some  farmers  saw  them. 
Said  one  of  them  :  "  Look  at  those  birds  carrying  the  frog. 
What  a  good  idea  !  "  The  frog  heard  this  and  was  filled 
with  pride.  He  opened  his  mouth  to  tell  the  farmer  that  he 
was  the  one  who  had  thought  of  this  plan,  but  in  doing  so 
he  let  go  of  the  stick,  and,  falling  to  the  ground,  was  dashed 
to  pieces. 

It  is  quite  obvious  that  if  this  story  should  be  illustrated 
by  a  picture  showing  the  frog  tumbling  through  the  air 
while  the  birds  are  sailing  aloft  with  the  stick,  such  a 
picture  would  spoil  rather  than  help  the  interest  of  the 
children.  This  might  not  be  the  case  with  adults,  the 

[211] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

difference  being  that  children  are  compelled  to  work  much 
harder  in  getting  ideas  from  the  printed  page  than  are 
people  who  have  already  learned  to  read.  The  pictures  in 
most  of  our  readers  seem  to  be  inserted  almost  wholly 
from  the  adult  standpoint,  and  without  consideration  of 
the  children's  needs. 

Anything  that  is  more  than  commonplace  in  the  fore- 
going analysis  of  reading  matter  for  children  is  dependent 
on  an  application  of  the  rights  of  social  existence.  Reading 
means  that  some  one,  namely  the  author,  is  talking  to  the 
children  and  telling  them  something  they  wish  to  hear. 
When  they  no  longer  care  to  hear  it,  the  thing  becomes 
an  imposition,  and  trains  the  habit  of  finding  ways  to  close 
one's  ears.  This  is  done  at  different  mental  levels.  A  child 
may  be  able  to  pronounce  words  and  sentences,  may  even 
put  in  all  the  elocutionary  twirls  and  twitches  which  the 
teacher  demands,  and  yet  have  his  higher  hearing  closed 
because  there  is  no  need  that  it  should  be  used.  It  is  also 
plain  that  permitting  children  to  express  their  expectation 
of  what  is  coming,  and  asking  other  children  what  they 
think  of  their  surmises,  is  in  itself  a  social  process  which 
results  in  extending  the  imaginative  grasp  and  stimulating 
the  interest  of  every  child  concerned. 

Mere  reading,  even  if  conducted  in  a  partially  social 
spirit,  is  only  the  passive  half  of  a  completely  social 
process.  The  procession  of  gaunt  bookworms  that  crawls 
forth  from  the  British  Museum  every  evening  when  the 
doors  close  have  acquired  the  reading  habit,  but  very  few 
of  them  have  acquired  anything  else.  It  is  a  question 
whether  the  habitues  of  the  dramshops  are  not  having  as 
good  a  time  and  getting  as  much  out  of  their  lives.  If  the 

[212] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

schools  do  no  more  for  reading  than  to  teach  people  to 
read,  it  may  be  said  paradoxically  that  they  are  not  even 
teaching  them  to  read.  Unless  passive  reading  results  in 
active  power,  even  the  first  half  of  the  process  is  incom- 
plete. A  man  may  read  and  hear  the  Golden  Rule ;  may 
assent  to  it  passively  or  theoretically  ;  may  think  he  under- 
stands it ;  may  even  regard  it  with  religious  adoration  ;  but 
unless  he  uses  it  in  the  practice  of  his  life,  he  will  fail  to 
get  its  meaning.  The  motor  outgo,  on  the  contrary,  yields 
not  only  vividness  to  intellectual  content,  but  actually 
increases  clearness.  Mr.  Henry  D.  Lloyd's  book,  to  take 
a  recent  example  (2),  evidently  derives  its  insight  as  an 
expression  of  the  Golden  Rule  from  the  test  of  action. 
All  ideas,  indeed,  are  but  hypotheses,  which  must  be  tried 
out  to  be  understood.  Adults,  with  a  wider  range  of  re- 
membered results  in  life,  may  not  need  to  experiment  so 
often  in  order  to  test  the  notions  with  which  they  are 
already  familiar.  It  is  frequently  forgotten  that  children 
are  without  this  experimental  data,  and  that  education  is 
for  the  purpose  of  supplying  this  deficiency.  Some  things 
are,  of  course,  instinctive,  having  been  stamped  into  the 
nervous  tissues  by  the  forgotten  experiments  of  the  race. 
But  if  this  summed  up  the  case,  conscious  education  would 
be  as  unnecessary  for  a  child  as  for  a  chick.  Most  things 
of  the  highest  and  most  controlling  value  are  not  so  in- 
stinctive. Even  the  prejudice  against  lying  is  an  acquired 
one  in  most  cases,  —  when  it  is  acquired  at  all.  "  Don't 
lie"  is  a  theory  until  the  child,  either  personally  or  by 
observation  of  others,  has  had  some  experience  which  has 
bitten  into  his  soul.  If,  then,  we  are  to  apply  the  Golden 
Rule  to  children  in  the  school,  their  reading  matter  must 
[213] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

furnish  them  with  ideas  which  they  can  use,  and  which 
they  care  to  use  experimentally,  in  their  present  lives.  The 
future  application  is  a  long  way  off,  and,  moreover,  can  be 
built  only  on  a  discriminating  and  voluntary  use  of  present 
opportunity.  Give  us,  O  Lord,  our  daily  bread,  and  let  us 
not  feed  the  children  with  stones. 

The  value  of  the  motor  side  in  all  intellectual  work  has 
already  been  seen,  but  it  is  taken,  for  the  most  part,  in  an 
individualistic  sense.  The  practice  of  teachers  shows  the 
result.  They  try  to  get  some  opportunity  for  the  child  to 
do  something,  and  hit  upon  the  profound  device  of  reading 
aloud.  Now  surely  his  motor  centers  are  being  exercised ! 
Or,  after  the  story  is  read,  they  ask  for  a  reproduction  in 
the  words  of  the  children,  and  make  this  a  "  language  exer- 
cise" by  jacking  up  the  children's  words  to  the  standard 
of  the  book.  They  may  ask  one  pupil  to  remember  one 
section,  the  next  another,  and  standing  them  in  a  row, 
jerkily  unravel  the  yarn  and  wind  it  up.  Or  they  may 
mystically  suppose  the  child  to  have  some  undischarged 
emotion,  and  get  him  to  express  it  in  painting  or  write  it 
out  in  the  form  of  an  exercise,  repeating  as  much  as  pos- 
sible the  story  read.  With  the  exception  of  the  first 
device,  these  are  called  methods  of  giving  back  the  story, 
and,  if  the  teacher  gets  beyond  the  idea  of  mere  memory 
training,  are  supposed  to  supply  a  motor  reaction. 

Now  why  does  the  child  read  aloud  ?  I  have  asked  sev- 
eral children,  and  they  were  surprised  at  the  question. 
They  thought  it  was  obvious  that  they  did  so  because  the 
teacher  told  them  to.  A  further  reason  came  to  some, 
namely,  that  the  teacher  wanted  to  see  whether  they  could 
pronounce  the  hard  words.  Their  attitude  in  both  cases 
[214] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

was  entirely  passive.  A  few  had  a  show-off  feeling,  and 
took  it  as  a  compliment  to  be  asked  to  read,  because  it  was 
a  sign  of  the  teacher's  favor,  placing  them  on  a  competitive 
eminence  with  their  mates.  It  is  obvious  that  in  most  class 
rooms  children  do  not  read  aloud  because  they  are  in  pos- 
session of  some  idea  which  they  have  derived  from  a  book 
and  wish  to  communicate  it  to  some  one  else.  This  is,  how- 
ever, the  principal  social  basis  for  reading  aloud,  and  is  the 
reason  any  sane  adult  would  have  if  he  wished  to  read  to 
any  one  else  or  any  one  else  cared  to  listen  to  him.  In 
school,  on  the  contrary,  the  rest  of  the  children  are  pro- 
vided with  books,  and  have  often  prepared  the  lesson  at 
home,  while  the  teacher,  of  course,  knows  the  story  before- 
hand. There  is  no  one  to  communicate  any  ideas  to,  and 
a  spiritual  vacuum  necessarily  results. 

It  may  be  said  that  elocution  remains,  including  here 
pronunciation  of  words,  inflection,  pauses,  rhythm,  quality 
of  voice,  the  erect  position,  the  book  in  the  left  hand,  or 
even  gestures.  No  doubt  these  do  remain,  and  some 
teachers  make  the  most  of  them,  but  they  are  abstract  and 
artificial,  without  content  or  meaning  back  of  them.  It 
is  practically  impossible  to  make  oral  reading  effective 
unless  the  reader  is  guided  by  a  desire  to  communicate 
something  of  interest.  In  some  way  a  real  audience  must 
be  provided,  if  reading  aloud  is  to  be  made  a  part  of  a 
reasonable  and  social  education. 

The  other  devices  above  mentioned,  consisting  of  giving 
back  the  story  to  the  teacher,  are  also  usually  treated  in 
an  individualistic  manner.  With  the  possible  exception,  in 
some  cases,  of  painting  or  drawing,  the  children  have  no 
direct  and  active  interest  in  giving  anybody  anything 
[215] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

through  their  performance.  There  is  no  one  to  whom  they 
desire  to  express  anything.  They  would  not  go  on  with 
these  things  by  themselves,  and  none  of  these  actions  will 
form  habits  likely  to  be  sustained  in  later  life.  No  adult, 
after  he  has  read  a  story  or  an  essay,  is  likely  to  sit  down 
and  reproduce  it  unless  he  has  the  intention  of  giving  this 
reproduction  to  others  who  may  be  unable,  or  for  whom  it 
may  be  inconvenient,  to  read  the  material  for  themselves. 

It  is  plain  that,  so  far  as  these  so-called  motor  reactions 
are  concerned,  the  child  is  not  directing  them  and  that  they 
are  not  motor  for  him.  He  has  no  feeling  that  he  is  caus- 
ing anything.  He  is  not  experimenting.  There  is  no  social 
effect  directly  connected  with  what  he  is  doing,  which  he 
can  observe,  correct,  and  thus  shape  nearer  to  his  heart's 
desire.  No  eye  is  fastened  upon  him  as  he  reads,  greedy 
to  hear  the  end  of  the  story.  The  wandering  glances  of  his 
classmates  do  not  disturb  him.  No  natural  interjection  is 
made,  and  at  the  close  no  voice  is  softened  by  emotion  or 
alive  with  curiosity.  The  breathing  is  unaffected,  and  the 
funeral  obsequies  are  conducted  by  the  teacher  alone.  As 
for  the  further  and  larger  experimenting  which  may  be  de- 
rived from  the  ideas  of  the  matter  read,  this  is,  for  the  most 
part,  supposed  to  belong  to  life  and  not  to  the  school,  and 
must  be  left  to  a  vague  hope  in  the  future,  or  to  what  is 
sometimes  called  the  individual  conscience. 

Merely  to  change  the  outward  appearance  of  such  prac- 
tice, and  to  tell  the  child  to  read  to  his  classmates  while 
they  close  their  books  and  listen,  may  not  effect  the  results 
desired.  The  child  may  still  not  feel  that  he  is  causing  any- 
thing, or  making  changes  that  are  worth  while  in  the  minds 
of  his  fellows.  This  will  almost  certainly  be  the  situation  if 
[216] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

a  story  is  read  which  the  children  have  already  looked  over, 
while  if  one  child  reads  one  section  of  a  new  story  and 
another  reads  the  next,  there  will  be  a  general  lack  of 
understanding  and  of  synthesis.1 

The  ethical  and  moral  thing  to  do  for  every  one  who 
reads  to  another  is  to  grasp  the  idea  to  be  expressed,  and 
to  judge  whether  it  would  interest  or  benefit  the  person 
who  listens.  With  adults  the  general  value  of  the  idea  may 
be  very  quickly  seized,  and  sometimes  without  reading  the 
whole  piece.  That  it  is  on  a  certain  subject,  or  written  by 
a  certain  author,  may  be  enough  in  some  cases.  The  next 
thing  the  reader  must  be  sure  of  is  that  his  listener  is  dis- 
posed to  receive  the  message.  He  then  proceeds,  if  he  is 
a  good  reader,  to  grasp  the  subordinate  ideas  which  the 
author  expresses  to  him.  His  eye  sees  them  coming  con- 
siderably ahead  of  the  words  he  is  actually  pronouncing, 
and  his  mind  is  still  further  on,  with  a  degree  of  expecta- 
tion, looking  for  the  more  important  thoughts. 

Meanwhile  his  voice  is  delivering  the  ideas  which  he  has 
previously  grasped.  The  operation  is  like  a  ball  game,  in 
which  the  author  throws  one  ball  after  another  of  varying 
size,  while  the  reader  throws  them  to  the  listener.  He  is 
careful  of  the  large  ones  and  handles  them  so  that  they 
may  be  caught.  To  do  this  the  reader  must  evidently  ob- 
serve his  listener  sufficiently  to  see  what  is  happening,  or 
even  stop  to  inquire.  This  may  seem  complex,  but  it  is 
probably  not  half  so  complex  as  what  actually  takes  place. 

1  This  will,  of  course,  obtain  to  a  greater  extent  in  the  higher  grades. 
With  the  younger  children  the  work  done  on  every  selection  is  greater ;  it 
should  therefore  afford  a  more  complete  picture  or  idea,  and  yield  an  op- 
portunity of  service  done  for  the  child  who  masters  it  and  communicates 
its  meaning  to  the  class. 

[217] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

There  is  plainly  enough  in  all  this  a  training  in  judgment 
and  ethics,  but  it  is  impossible  to  carry  it  out  if  it  is  not 
made  a  part  of  real,  cooperative  life  processes  conducted 
in  the  school. 

A  few  years  ago  the  present  writer  took  charge  of  a  read- 
ing class  of  high-school  juniors,  and  made  an  effort  to  see 
what  could  be  accomplished  in  this  direction.  The  pupils 
were  invited  to  give  their  ideas  of  what  could  best  be  done, 
and  to  describe  both  aims  and  processes.  The  aims  were 
at  first,  as  might  be  expected,  very  abstract,  where  they  did 
not  result  from  an  attempt  to  pose.  Gradually,  however, 
real  desires  made  their  appearance,  and  with  these,  common- 
sense  efforts  to  carry  them  out.  The  pupils  began  rather 
early  to  bring  into  the  class  things  that  they  had  read  with 
pleasure  themselves,  to  ask  the  class  if  they  cared  to  hear 
them,  and,  after  a  good  deal  of  home  preparation,  to  read 
them  aloud,  and  to  ask  for  criticism  or  comment.  The 
teacher  was  in  a  position  to  give  advice  during  the  prepara- 
tion, and  to  join  in  the  criticism  at  the  close.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  these  functions  were  at  first  performed  very 
gently  indeed,  in  order  not  to  frighten  the  pupils  out  of 
taking  a  full  initiative  themselves.  Individual  pupils  fre- 
quently ran  to  specialties.  One  girl  was  always  bringing  in 
sentimental  pieces,  which  she  read  with  a  great  deal  of  feel- 
ing ;  and,  strange  to  say,  this  feeling  was  reciprocated  by 
many  of  the  pupils.  I  saw  tears  in  some  eyes  during  the 
reading  of  pieces  which  left  my  own  heart  untouched.  I 
refrained  from  expressing  my  adult  and  presumably  more 
cultivated  feelings  further  than  would  be  really  welcomed 
by  the  class.  One  boy  was  a  born  humorist,  and  after  the 
tears  he  occasionally  set  the  class  in  a  roar  by  some  little 
[218] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

story  which  he  had  found  perhaps  in  a  newspaper,  and 
which  he  told,  and  often  acted,  without  reading. 

Every  one  came  to  have  an  ambition  to  read  as  if  he 
were  speaking  to  the  rest.  Instead  of  general  criticism, 
the  reader  sometimes  asked  the  class  for  the  succession  of 
images  they  had  received,  or  for  the  ideas  and  images  which 
they  had  found  particularly  interesting.  Very  soon  a  daily 
programme  had  to  be  prepared  in  order  to  economize  time 
and  get  the  best  order  of  the  pieces  presented. 

After  this  degree  of  organization  had  appeared,  some  one 
proposed  that  where  there  were  two  or  three  persons  rep- 
resented in  the  pieces  read,  these  parts  might  be  taken  by 
different  members  of  the  class,  rather  than  that  the  single 
reader  should  be  first  one  person  and  then  another.  They 
frequently  took  pieces  written  in  indirect  discourse,  and 
turned  them  into  direct  address.  Indeed,  this  was  often 
done  by  the  single  reader  as  he  went  along,  if  by  doing  so 
he  thought  he  could  get  more  into  the  spirit  of  the  piece  or 
give  a  more  vivid  impression  to  his  hearers.  Very  soon  dia- 
logue and  dramas  were  brought  in,  one  of  the  first  I  remem- 
ber being  the  quarrel  scene  between  Brutus  and  Cassius. 
By  this  time  home  preparation  did  not  seem  sufficient,  and 
they  voted  to  give  part  of  the  time  to  preparation  in  the 
school.  For  this  purpose  they  broke  up  into  several  groups 
in  different  rooms  or  hallways,  and  planned  and  rehearsed 
their  various  presentations.  During  this  period  the  teacher 
was  in  great  demand,  going  round  among  the  groups  and 
giving  help  and  criticism.  The  most  important  technical 
problems  were  frequently  broached,  the  dictionary  was  in 
constant  service,  and  even  books  on  elocution  were  not 
despised. 

[219] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Still  later  the  pupils  began  to  make  stories  for  them- 
selves from  real  life,  and  to  read  sketches  or  essays.  These 
were  not  allowed,  by  the  class  as  a  whole,  who  had  to  listen 
to  them,  to  occupy  too  large  a  share  of  the  programme.  Only 
the  best  survived.  Some  of  these,  however,  were  very  good. 
One  little  dramatic  sketch,  which  was  impersonated  by  the 
author,  and  represented  an  experience  which  happened  to 
him  in  a  life-saving  station,  was  particularly  interesting  and 
even  romantic.  In  all  this  the  teacher  took  part  also,  by 
presenting  reading  material  which  he  thought  would  be 
interesting,  and  which  he  calculated  would  gradually  raise 
the  standard  of  the  class. 

This  experiment  was  satisfactory  as  far  as  it  went,  and  it 
was  quite  plain  that  the  young  people,  while  they  enjoyed 
their  experience,  never  lost  sight  of  the  educational  purpose 
of  becoming  better  readers.  Many  who  had  never  had  such 
an  idea  before  woke  up  to  its  value  and  pursued  their  am- 
bition with  the  greatest  success.  I  say  "as  far  as  it  went," 
because  this  reading  class  was  not  in  such  organic  connec- 
tion with  the  rest  of  the  school  that  life  activities  going  on 
in  the  other  classes  could  be  related  to  the  new  ideas  de- 
rived from  either  the  authors  read  or  from  the  social  prac- 
tice of  this  class.  That  the  pupils  could  read  better  and 
were  a  little  more  confident  was  perhaps  the  greatest  value 
apparent  in  other  classes.  It  was  rather  the  life  processes 
going  on  outside  the  school,  in  home  and  church  and  play- 
ground, that  were  most  organically  united  with  this  work 
in  reading.  To  get  the  best  results  the  whole  school  should 
be  allowed  to  organize  on  a  social  basis.  The  experiences 
of  one  class  should  be  intimately  connected  with  those  of 
another,  and  the  school  itself  should  grow  from  the  life  of 

[220] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

the  community  which  surrounds  it.  This  can  never  be  done 
by  correlating  subjects  on  a  course  of  study,  or  in  any  other 
way  put  in  from  the  top.  It  is  growth  from  the  roots  which 
will  yield  flowers  and  fruit. 

The  experiment  above  described  revealed  other  things 
than  the  powers  of  pupils  to  organize  their  own  work.  In- 
stead of  sinking  individuality,  their  social  cooperation  was 
the  very  thing  which  brought  it  out.  True  independence  is 
always  a  result  of,  and  follows  rather  than  precedes,  a  stage 
of  interdependence.  Both  are  desirable  in  education,  but 
one  is  fundamental,  the  other  accessory. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  individual  reader,  it  was 
also  brought  out  in  the  mutual  criticisms  of  the  class,  that 
after  he  felt  the  most  fundamental  social  relationship  and 
was  in  control  of  the  ideas  to  be  delivered,  the  means  neces- 
sary to  carry  out  these  prerequisites  followed  a  certain  natu- 
ral order.  The  voice,  or  the  book  in  the  left  hand,  was  not 
found  to  be  the  most  fundamental  or  controlling  factor. 
That  which  governed  the  rest  was  the  position  and  motion 
of  the  body.  Instead  of  adding  on  the  actions  to  the  word, 
the  first  thing  to  be  thought  of,  or  rather  felt,  was  the 
physical  attitude  and  the  actions  themselves.  In  reading, 
as  in  real  life,  these  bodily  attitudes  and  actions  precede 
the  voice.  They  represent  to  the  others  and  give  to  the 
reader  the  kinaesthetic  and  emotional  experience  of  which 
the  words  are  an  accessory  accompaniment.  A  person  does 
not  say,  "  Give  me  the  book,"  and  then  proceed  to  supply 
appropriate  gestures.  He  turns  his  head,  directs  his  eyes, 
leans  his  body,  and  begins  to  stretch  out  his  hand  a  little 
before  the  words  are  uttered.  He  no  doubt  begins  to  get 
the  idea  before  these  things  happen,  but  this  belongs  more 

[221] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

to  the  receptive  side  of  the  process,  and  we  are  here  con- 
sidering the  art  of  delivery  or  expression.  If  these  funda- 
mental things  are  right,  the  words  tend  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  and  to  derive  from  the  more  passive  bodily 
states  the  timbre,  pitch,  and  melody  which  are  suitable  to 
the  physical  organism  of  the  reader.  A  stereotyped  posi- 
tion, such  as  standing  erect  with  the  heels  together,  ob- 
viously spoils  the  opportunity  of  natural  expression,  and 
indirectly  prevents  the  reader  from  getting  or  giving  the 
full  meaning  of  what  he  is  reading.  When  this  mistake  is 
once  made  (and  this  follows  immediately  from  ignoring  the 
social  conditions  of  expression),  there  is  nothing  left  for  it 
but  to  supply  stereotyped  inflections,  rhythms,  and  pauses, 
with  other  technique,  imitated  directly  from  the  teacher. 
How  often  do  we  see  children's  natural  grace  of  movement 
and  the  beautiful  quality  of  their  voices,  which  ought  to 
be  as  different  as  the  differences  of  their  mental  make-up 
and  bodily  structure,  forced  into  elocutionary  antics  quite 
foreign  to  their  real  feelings  or  desires  !  Because  they  are 
not  dealing  with  realities  in  the  children  themselves,  except 
to  override  them,  teachers  do  not  even  express  their  own 
individuality,  but  imitate  the  forms  they  use  from  others. 
A  mannerism  of  inflection  will  thus  run  like  a  disease  of 
fashion  through  a  whole  city.  When  all  are  alike,  it  is 
supposed  that  every  one  must  be  right. 

With  younger  children,  what  adults  would  feel  to  be  an 
excess  of  bodily  expression  is  natural,  and  is  to  be  expected 
if  the  social  atmosphere  is  normal.  Reading  matter  full  of 
visual  imagery  and  dramatic  possibilities  is  most  necessary 
for  them.  But  with  larger  and  deeper  experience,  the  voice 
undertakes  a  larger  share  of  the  expression,  and  gestures 

[222] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

are  checked.  The  significance  of  the  whole  paragraph,  or 
of  the  whole  speech,  is  more  readily  grasped,  and  its  appli- 
cation to  events  and  actions  which  lie  beyond  the  present 
looms  up  larger  in  consciousness.  The  bodily  attitude 
expresses  a  feeling  of  simple  waiting  for  the  point  or 
denouement  of  the  whole  idea.  Emphasis  of  tone,  or  force, 
is  moderated.  More  work  is  laid  on  the  higher  processes 
of  association  and  judgment.  President  Eliot  of  Harvard 
is  much  admired  by  the  present  generation  as  a  speaker, 
and  rightly  so.  He  hardly  ever  makes  a  gesture.  His 
voice,  although  clear  and  confident,  is  almost  level  in  its 
flow.  Slight  pauses  and  slight  inflections  form  the  princi- 
pal means  of  emphasis.  But  even  this  style  of  expression 
has  not  lost  its  dramatic  implications.  It  is  still  controlled 
by  the  test  of  action.  It  is  full  of  purpose  and  vibrant 
with  endeavor. 

Reserved  power  is,  however,  the  end  and  not  the  begin- 
ning. Immediate  action  and  its  consequences  must  be  mas- 
tered first.  Where  these  are  capable  of  being  controlled 
for  social  purposes,  the  more  far-reaching  effects  may  be 
experimented  upon.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  to  imitate 
the  mere  form  of  a  finished  speaker  is  to  satisfy  ourselves 
with  husks,  and  to  prevent  the  development  of  a  normal 
growth. 

The  foregoing  analysis  of  both  the  receptive  and  the 
active  side  of  reading  has  already  thrown  some  light  on  its 
higher  development  in  literature.  That  only  is  literature 
which  speaks  to  people's  hearts,  and  which  they  care  to 
read  and  hear.  To  label  a  collection  of  authors,  Fine  Lit- 
erature, and  to  apply  this  in  small  doses,  suitable  for  rhe- 
torical or  grammatical  analysis  and  philological  research, 
[223] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

is  to  dishearten  pupils  and  to  remind  them  of  a  drug  store 
rather  than  of  the  pure  Pierian  spring  or  of  a  well  of 
English  undefiled.  This  is  an  attitude  which  is  fortunately 
passing  away  in  our  best  high  schools  and  colleges,  and 
teachers,  much  more  than  formerly,  depend  on  reading  to 
the  pupils.  The  next  step  will  be  to  allow  pupils  to  read 
among  themselves,  and  to  exercise  frequently  their  own 
admiration  and  their  own  choice  in  what  they  read  to 
others  and  in  what  others  read  to  them. 

As  we  have  tried  to  show,  reading  and  literature,  to  be 
of  any  service,  must  never  get  far  away  from  the  will  or 
intention  of  those  who  read.  It  is  also  true  that  this 
expression  must  be  a  natural  outcome  of  their  emotions. 
What  are  the  emotions  which  children  experience,  and 
which  they  suffer  from  when  they  are  not  controlled  and 
educated  ? 

Fear  is  certainly  one.  We  have  had  some  excellent 
studies  of  children's  fears  (3),  but  it  would  be  hard  to  find 
much  appreciation  of  these  studies  in  our  pedagogical  prac- 
tice. And  yet  every  tragedy  is  a  record  of  a  fear  that  is 
overcome.  To  guide  the  soul  between  fear  and  love  was 
Aristotle's  formula  for  education.  Perfect  love  casteth  out 
fear,  says  the  New  Testament,  but  the  fear  must  exist  in 
order  to  be  cast  out.  Death,  sin,  hell,  and  the  grave  are 
symbols  which  stand  for  something.  A  Scotch  preacher 
once  told  me  that  it  was  his  frequent  practice  to  "  shake 
his  hearers  o'er  the  mouth  o'  hell"  before  picturing  to 
them  the  saving  grace  of  redeeming  love.  Some  such 
emotional  curve,  although  not  always  representing  thoughts 
so  primitive  and  crude,  is  to  be  found  behind  every  sig- 
nificant human  endeavor.  To  be  aware  of  risks  and  to 
[224] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

appreciate  them  to  the  full  is  a  sign  of  wisdom  and  a 
stimulus  to  true  courage. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  have  fear  and  see  no  outcome,  to 
be  chronically  afraid,  expresses  the  depth  of  defeat.  To  be 
so  cautious  as  to  be  afraid  to  stir  or  to  take  risks  for  worthy 
ends  is  a  conservative  attitude  governed  by  a  subconscious 
fear.  To  adopt  the  suggestion  that  there  is  no  fear,  no 
death,  no  evil,  may  be  comfortable  for  the  time,  but  it  puts 
the  realities  of  life  a  little  further  beyond  one's  personal 
control.  Better  the  war  song  of  the  Norman  as  he  rode 
along  the  ranks  swinging  his  battle-ax  in  the  air. 

If  it  is  a  law  that  love  casts  out  fear,  chronic  fear  is  only 
a  state  of  arrest,  and  the  proper  development  of  the  situa- 
tion will  result  in  happiness  and  power.  We  see  this  plainly 
in  the  tragedies  of  our  great  poets.  But  the  small  tragedies 
of  children  are  often  allowed  to  fester,  and  form  points  of 
departure  for  an  organization  of  fear  states  which,  although 
their  origin  may  have  been  forgotten,  keep  on  like  "  sunken 
bells  "  through  the  whole  of  their  after  life.  Let  us  take 
the  case  of  a  little  four-year-old  girl  who,  when  she  went  to 
bed,  imagined  all  kinds  of  reptiles  and  other  terrible  crea- 
tures underneath  the  bed.  Comforting  words  from  her 
mother  did  no  good.  One  night,  however,  the  child  imag- 
ined that  four  great  lions  stalked  into  the  room.  They  took 
up  their  positions,  one  at  each  corner  of  the  bed ;  they 
fought  off  the  reptiles,  and  the  little  girl  fell  peacefully 
asleep.  The  next  night  the  lions  came  in  earlier  ;  and  with 
repetition  the  whole  thing  became  a  pleasant  play,  but  not 
without  the  tang  of  fear  from  which  it  was  derived. 

It  is  evident  that  we  have  here  the  making  of  a  poem, 
a  drama,  for  which  nature  had  finally  provided  the  missing 
[225] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

fifth  act.  When  the  chain  of  imagery  is  stopped  in  the 
middle,  the  spectator  in  the  "private  theater"  is  naturally 
disturbed. 

To  educate  and  control  children's  imaginary  fears,  we 
must  find  the  fifth  act  for  them  when  they  do  not  find  it 
for  themselves.  Many  children's  stories  do  this  more  or 
less  successfully.  w  Little  Red  Riding  Hood  "  is  a  classic 
example.  The  wolf  should  be  painted  with  all  the  suitable 
horrors  gradually  introduced  in  the  most  seductive  manner. 
That  it  all  turns  out  well  in  the  end,  although  crudely  from 
the  adult  standpoint,  is  the  necessary  feature  of  this  kind 
of  spiritual  homeopathy.  Children  are  bound  to  hear  stories 
involving  fear,  and  if  they  are  not  told  them  by  the  proper 
artists  of  their  lives,  they  will  get  them  from  less  worthy 
sources,  and  perhaps  from  persons  who  have  a  morbid 
pleasure  in  merely  making  them  afraid.  Why  should  not 
teachers  make  stories  which  should  fit  the  experiences  of 
the  actual  children  to  whom  they  are  told  ?  The  old  myths 
are  useful  enough,  but  the  modern  child  has  new  fears,  — 
the  streets,  the  trolley  cars,  stairs  to  fall  down,  failure  at 
promotion,  robbers,  and  automobiles  are  full  of  terrors 
which  might  well  be  provided  with  suitable  myths. 

In  a  similar  manner,  every  other  emotion  may  acquire 
through  literature  its  natural  discharge.  Let  us  not  sup- 
pose that  these  emotions  are  issued  by  nature  in  job  lots, 
and  because  we  have  a  general  name  for  anger,  that  every 
anger  state  is  like  every  other.  Probably  no  two  cases  of 
resentment  are  emotionally  the  same.  A  piece  of  literature 
or  an  idea  that  will  touch  the  heart  in  one  case  may  fail 
in  another.  The  little  girl  above  described  needed  just 
those  four  lions,  or  something  else  that  would  fit  as  exactly 

[226] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

into  her  fantasy.  The  power  to  read  into  the  large  dramas 
our  own  smaller  ones  comes  later.  At  first  we  need  more 
particular  treatment.  As  Browning,  with  an  application  to 
his  own  poetry,  says  : 

What  matter  to  me  if  their  star  is  a  world  ? 

Mine  has  opened  its  soul  to  me !  therefore  I  love  it. 

Teachers  ought  to  be  able  to  make  stories  that  will  fit  par- 
ticular emotional  situations  closely  similar  to  those  actually 
experienced  by  their  pupils.  If  they  are  unable  to  do  this 
with  a  fair  degree  of  success,  is  it  likely  that  they  will  be 
competent  to  select  wisely  from  the  store  of  accredited  lit- 
erature with  which  they  may  be  familiar  ? 

It  may  be  said  that  teachers  are  not  expected  to  select, 
—  that  this  is  done  for  them  by  their  superiors.  So  much 
the  worse  for  the  children.  The  bread  of  life  needs  to  be 
baked  fresh  if  moldy  crusts  are  not  to  take  its  place.  So 
much  the  worse  also  for  the  teachers.  Until  teachers  are 
able  to  control  the  work  of  their  own  profession,  their  life 
will  be  one  of  ineffectual  martyrdom  and  discontent. 

But  there  is,  fortunately  enough,  immense  unused  capac- 
ity among  our  teachers.  Even  although  we  load  them  like 
donkeys  and  drive  them  like  mules,  the  Pegasus  will  still 
appear.  There  are  thousands  of  teachers  capable  of  free 
creative  work,  who  are  balked  and  discouraged  by  the 
formalism  of  dictatorial  methods  and  by  courses  of  study 
arbitrarily  imposed  from  above. 

As  a  slight  illustration  of  this,  I  may  cite  some  work 

done  by  mere  beginners  in  a  city  normal  school.    The 

problem  was  to  write  a  story  that  would  portray  a  situation 

in  a  child's  life,  painting  the  character  so  sympathetically 

[227] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

that  the  hearer  would  identify  himself  with  the  hero 
of  the  story ;  and  after  this  was  done,  and  the  arrested 
emotional  stage  clearly  grasped,  to  lead  the  story  up  to 
a  better  and  higher  mode  of  thought  and  feeling.  The 
following  is  a  typical  story,  selected  mainly  on  account  of 
its  brevity,  and  was  designed  for  an  eighth-grade  class  of 
boys.  In  a  preliminary  investigation  it  was  discovered  that 
about  half  of  these  boys  had  had,  at  one  time  or  another, 
serious  thoughts  of  running  away  from  home,  and  that 
some  of  them  had  actually  done  so. 

Yes,  it  was  just  a  month  since  Willie  had  run  away  from  home. 
He  had  felt  very  happy  when  he  had  first  joined  the  circus,  but  now, 
as  he  thought  more  of  it  day  by  day,  he  was  sorry  he  had  acted  so 
unwisely.  This  is  how  it  happened. 

Willie  lived  in  a  very  cosy  little  house  in  a  small  village,  with  his 
parents,  to  whom  he  was  very  much  attached.  There  he  had  dwelt 
happily  for  twelve  whole  years,  and  had  had  no  cause  for  vexation, 
as  every  wish  had  been  gratified.  One  day  the  circus  came  to  the 
neighboring  town,  and  a  large  party  of  boys,  Willie's  friends,  had 
obtained  permission  to  go  to  see  it.  As  Willie  desired  to  share  this 
extraordinary  pleasure,  he  soon  acquainted  his  father  with  his  wish. 
At  first  his  parent  saw  no  objection,  but  when  he  learned  that  the 
boys  intended  to  go  unaccompanied  by  an  older  person,  he  withdrew 
his  consent,  deciding  that  it  would  be  far  safer  to  keep  Willie  at  home. 

Now  the  circus  had  planned  to  stay  a  week,  and  the  boys  had 
planned  to  go  on  the  fifth  day.  When  this  day  arrived  the  boys 
gathered  together,  ready  for  the  journey.  Eager  anticipation  for  the 
great  joys  and  surprises  awaiting  them  were  depicted  on  every  coun- 
tenance. Willie  sat  at  the  window  watching  all  the  proceedings. 
He  had  felt  bad  when  his  father  told  him  he  could  not  go  ;  but  now, 
as  he  saw  the  boys  setting  out  on  the  way,  it  seemed  as  if  his  heart 
would  break. 

He  went  to  his  own  room,  where  he  sat  down  and  cried  pitifully. 
Suddenly  he  roused  himself,  and,  with  a  determined  look  on  his  face, 
began  to  search  for  something  in  the  bureau  drawer.    After  a  while 
he  drew  out  his  hand,  in  which  he  held  a  small  iron  savings  bank. 
[228] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed  aloud ;  "  this  is  enough  to  take  me  to  the 
circus,  and  I  can  there  earn  enough  to  see  the  show  and  pay  my 
way  back.  I  shall  start  early  to-morrow  morning,  before  any  one  is 
awake,  and  I  will  be  far  away  from  here  when  they  first  discover 
that  I  have  gone." 

With  such  thoughts  as  these  Willie's  mind  was  filled,  until  he 
finally  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep.  His  sleep,  however,  was  not  in  the 
least  refreshing :  strange,  he  was  continually  troubled  by  the  thought 
that  his  parents  would  be  very  anxious  and  worried  by  his  absence. 
But  he  put  this  thought  aside,  saying :  "  What  do  they  care  about 
me  ?  If  they  thought  very  much  of  me,  they  would  let  me  go  to  the 
circus,  as  the  other  boys'  parents  did.  They  ought  to  be  glad  to 
think  that  I  am  enjoying  myself." 

The  following  morning  Willie  rose  bright  and  early,  ready  for 
his  journey.  He  slipped  quietly  downstairs,  took  his  hat  from  the 
hook,  and  was  off.  Reaching  the  railway  station,  he  took  the  train 
to  town. 

He  arrived  just  at  the  time  when  the  circus  manager  was  opening 
up  for  the  day.  Willie  stood  watching  him  for  a  while,  hoping  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  interior  of  the  tent.  Seeing  the  little  boy  standing 
there  and  taking  in  all  the  proceedings,  the  manager  called  to  him. 
Willie  approached  timidly.  Had  this  great  man,  who  owned  so  many 
wonderful  animals  and  could  do  so  many  tricks,  condescended  to 
speak  first  to  a  strange  boy  ?  When  near  enough  to  him,  the  mana- 
ger asked  him  several  questions  as  to  his  name,  where  he  came  from, 
and  what  he  intended  to  do.  Willie  answered  him  truthfully,  and 
then  waited  for  the  great  man  to  speak  again.  He  did  not  open  his 
lips  for  a  moment,  then  suddenly  he  asked,  "  Willie,  would  you  like 
to  join  the  circus  ?  " 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  unexpected  than  this  question, 
and  Willie  was  so  surprised  that  he  stood  for  a  moment  dumb- 
founded. Was  this  man  actually  going  to  let  him  see  the  circus  for 
nothing,  and  also  travel  with  it  from  place  to  place  about  the  world  ? 
It  really  seemed  impossible.  Could  he  have  heard  rightly?  perhaps 
not.  This  last  question  was  not  left  long  unanswered. 

"Willie,"  repeated  the  manager,  who  had  taken  a  noticeable  inter- 
est in  the  boy  ;  "  would  you  like  to  join  the  circus  ?  " 

Willie  did  not  now  hesitate  a  moment  to  reply,  "  Certainly,  sir." 

"  Very  well,"  continued  the  manager  ;  "  follow  me." 

[229] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Willie  did  so,  and  soon  found  himself  amid  the  various  great 
attractions  of  the  circus  he  had  so  desired  to  see. 

He  passed  up  and  down  before  the  cages  containing  gigantic  ani- 
mals and  curious  birds,  —  elephants,  giraffes,  lions,  tigers,  ostriches, 
etc.  With  the  few  pennies  he  had  left,  he  bought  peanuts  and  amused 
himself  by  feeding  the  monkeys.  Later  he  saw  the  clown  making 
the  dogs  do  tricks  and  jump  through  rings,  and  also  the  celebrated 
bareback  rider. 

His  first  day  passed  very  quickly,  and  Willie  was  not  required  to 
do  any  work.  But  as  the  days  passed  on,  he  was  asked  to  do  more 
and  more.  At  the  end  of  three  weeks  he  had  a  considerable  amount 
of  work  to  do,  which  kept  him  busy  from  early  morning  until  late  at 
night.  He  was  obliged  to  clean  out  the  cages  of  the  animals,  and 
bring  them  food  and  fresh  water. 

The  worst  part  of  all  was  that  nobody  took  any  notice  of  him,  and 
he  was  knocked  about  as  if  he  were  a  strange  dog  whom  nobody 
cared  for,  and  who  was  really  in  the  way. 

As  a  result,  he  had  not  much  time  for  sleep,  and  when  that  time 
did  come,  he  could  not  sleep.  His  thoughts  constantly  went  back  to 
his  home  and  his  parents.  How  they  must  have  missed  him,  —  how 
lonesome  they  must  have  been  without  him,  —  how  they  had  longed 
to  have  him  come  home.  But  it  had  all  been  in  vain,  for  Willie  did 
not  return.  He  saw  his  mother  weeping  silently  as  she  busied  her- 
self with  the  housework,  and  his  father,  too,  had  a  careworn  expres- 
sion on  his  face.  How  he  would  like  to  be  at  home !  Once  there  he 
would  never  run  away  again. 

But  how  could  he  return  ?  The  manager  kept  a  pretty  strict  watch 
over  him,  and  did  not  allow  him  out  of  his  sight  for  one  moment,  for 
he  knew  that  Willie  would  be  of  great  assistance  to  him  as  he  grew 
older.  Besides  this,  the  boy  was  a  patient  and  faithful  worker.  And 
yet  Willie  felt  that  he  must  free  himself.  But  how  was  he  to  do  it  ? 
This  question  was  the  most  difficult  to  answer. 

Suddenly  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  some  one  was  shak- 
ing him  gently.  He  opened  his  eyes,  and  beheld  his  mother  looking 
down  at  him. 

"  Well,  Willie,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  I  had  called  you  three  times 
already,  but  as  you  did  not  answer,  I  came  to  wake  you.  Hurry  up, 
or  you  will  be  late  for  school." 

[230] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

Could  it  be  possible  that  he  was  really  at  home  and  in  his  own 
room,  lying  on  his  soft  little  bed?  He  put  out  his  hand  to  reas- 
sure himself  that  he  was  truly  awake.  Yes,  it  was  just  so,  and  he 
had  only  been  dreaming  after  all.  How  glad  he  was  to  be  at  home 
again  with  his  dear  parents.  No,  he  would  not  mind  staying  at  home 
on  Friday,  when  the  other  boys  went  to  the  circus.  His  father  knew 
best ;  and  besides,  after  that  terrible  dream,  he  would  never  venture 
alone  to  the  circus,  for  that  might  lead  to  the  realization  of  the 
dream  itself. 

But  it  is  not  enough  for  a  satisfactory  social  develop- 
ment that  teachers  learn  to  interpret  children  at  first  hand, 
and  in  doing  so,  learn  to  free  their  own  personality  for  this 
purpose.  The  children  must  learn  to  interpret  themselves 
to  each  other.  They  can  do  this  only  when  they  produce 
for  each  other.  This  is  the  law  of  spoken  language,  and  it 
is  equally  valid  for  that  which  is  written  or  printed.  In 
fact,  unless  the  teacher  is  in  contact  with  children  who 
are  producing  for  each  other,  it  will  be  very  difficult  and 
perhaps  impossible  for  him  either  to  catch  the  method 
or  understand  the  matter  which  is  best  suited  to  their 
mental  level.  To  ask  children  to  write  an  imaginary  letter 
for  an  imaginary  situation,  or  even  to  write  to  mother 
or  grandmother,  is  not  so  exhilarating  nor  so  capable  of 
being  controlled  by  the  writer  himself  as  if  he  wrote  to 
people  on  his  own  plane.  He  is  then  in  a  position  to  get 
the  kind  of  criticism  that  comes  from  seeing  how  the 
others  take  his  production, — whether  it  has  been  of  serv- 
ice to  them,  interests  them,  arouses  their  admiration,  or 
calls  for  their  friendly  help  or  correction.  In  no  other 
way,  moreover,  can  the  teacher  be  sure  that  the  truths 
she  would  fain  inculcate  have  actually  entered  into  the 
life  processes  of  the  pupils. 

[231] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Children  are,  of  course,  very  ready  to  do  this.  They 
often  do  it  by  surreptitious  note  writing,  without  the 
teacher's  approval.  But  they  are  still  more  willing  to  write 
for  each  other  with  the  help  of  the  teacher,  and  with 
worthier  aims.  Examples  of  this  practice  can  be  found 
under  our  best  teachers  and  in  a  few  of  our  schools.  The 
Ethical  Culture  School  of  New  York  organizes  some  of 
its  reading  exercises  on  what  the  children  write.  Both  the 
Francis  Parker  School  in  Chicago,  under  Miss  Cook's  lead- 
ership, and  the  University  Elementary  School  carry  still 
further  the  development  of  the  children's  own  activity. 
Under  Miss  Martha  Fleming  the  original  dramatic  work 
of  the  children  reaches  a  very  high  degree  of  excellence. 
Often  one  section  of  the  class,  or  one  whole  class,  forms  a 
group  to  write  something  for  the  other  section  or  class  to 
read.  This  is  more  effective  morally,  and  in  the  other 
results  gained,  than  when  each  child  writes  by  himself. 
The  two  following  examples  of  this  kind  of  work,  the 
first  from  Miss  Port's  class  (second  grade),  the  second 
from  Miss  Wygant's  (first  grade),  both  of  the  University 
Elementary  School,  will  serve  as  examples.  The  first 
lesson  runs  on  aesthetic  lines ;  the  second  is  more  scien- 
tific and  practical,  and  represents  actual  work  the  children 
had  done.  In  both  cases  they  were  telling  about  their  own 
experiences  to  a  real  audience. 

CO 

On  Thursday,  November  3,  we  went  to  Beverly  Hills.  At  ten  min- 
utes of  9  we  crossed  the  Midway,  and  went  on  the  street  cars  to 
Englewood.  We  had  to  wait  until  a  quarter  of  ten  for  the  train. 
We  were  on  the  train  about  fifteen  minutes. 

On  the  train  Denison  saw  men  making  a  new  park. 

Geraldine  saw  seven  cows. 

[232] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

Elizabeth  saw  some  pigeons  walking  around  a  pigeon  house. 

Dent  saw  a  flock  of  birds  flying  south. 

Lanning  saw  a  wagon  of  corn. 

Denison  saw  some  corn  that  had  not  been  cut  down. 

Beatrice  Lovett  saw  cornfields  where  the  corn  was  stacked  like 
tents. 

Meredith  and  Miss  Port  saw  a  field  of  cabbages. 

Lanning  saw  a  man  plowing. 

Paul  saw  many  pumpkins  in  a  store. 

Mary  saw  some  ducks. 

When  we  got  off  the  train  the  air  was  clear  and  fresh  and  breezy. 
It  seemed  like  the  country.  We  walked  and  ran  and  screamed.  We 
saw  a  pond  of  water  and  a  burro.  We  wanted  to  find  snakes  and 
frogs  in  a  pond.  But  we  had  to  go  on. 

Miss  Port  said  it  was  too  far  to  go  to  the  farm.  We  were  disap- 
pointed, but  we  had  just  as  good  a  time  in  the  woods. 

The  woods  were  beautiful  and  quiet,  and  there  was  not  a  house 
near  by.  There  were  oak  trees  and  the  leaves  were  brown  and  yellow. 
We  found  some  red  leaves.  The  oak  leaves  rustled  in  the  trees. 
Many  came  floating  and  whirling  down.  Some  fluttered  down.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  dry,  brown  leaves. 

We  had  a  leaf  fight.  Then  we  covered  Mrs.  Thomsen  with  leaves. 
We  said,  "  Where  is  Mrs.  Thomsen  ?  "  and  up  she  jumped.  Then  we 
covered  Miss  Port.  Some  children  climbed  trees  and  shook  the 
leaves  down. 

After  a  while  we  took  a  walk.  We  found  another  pond.  We 
think  it  was  an  old  milldam.  We  ran  down  the  old  logs.  We  played 
a  long  time.  Then  we  wanted  a  drink.  Six  of  us  went  to  a  farm  for 
water.  Before  we  got  any  water,  the  woman  told  us  to  be  careful  in 
the  pasture.  We  said,  "Why?"  She  said  there  was  a  wild  bull  in 
the  pasture.  We  ran  for  the  woods  again. 

We  ate  our  lunch  in  the  woods.  We  wanted  water  all  the  time. 
Next  time  we  are  going  to  take  bottles  of  water  with  us.  While  we 
were  eating  our  lunch  some  bees  came  to  see  us.  One  bee  stung 
Gordon  on  the  finger. 

After  lunch  we  played  games  and  told  stories.  We  saw  a  man 
with  a  gun.  We  told  him  about  the  wild  bull,  and  he  said  he  would 
have  to  shoot  him.  But  we  think  he  was  just  fooling. 

At  2  oH:lock  we  started  for  home.    We  had  a  good  time. 

[233] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

(2) 

We  went  hunting. 

We  did  not  take  a  gun. 

We  took  acid. 

Guess  what  we  were  hunting  for. 

We  found  it  in  marble  and  in  limestone. 

We  found  it  in  bones,  shells,  and  chalk. 

We  found  it  in  lake  water. 

We  found  it  in  the  soil  in  our  school  yard. 

"  Lime  seems  to  be  in  a  great  many  places,"  said  Charles. 

Work  of  this  kind  is  being  done  by  Miss  Nelson  of  the 
Pierce  School,  Brookline,  and  by  Miss  Shaw  of  the  Wells 
School,  Boston,  although  in  these  schools  the  work  tends 
to  the  production  of  plays  which  are  acted  by  the  pupils. 
The  following  was  written  by  an  eleven-year-old  pupil  of 
Miss  Shaw.  It  was  her  own  doll  that  the  little  girl  had 
in  mind.  She  put  in  the  grandmother,  not  because  she  had 
one,  but,  as  she  said,  because  she  wished  she  had.  Spelling 
and  punctuation  and  arrangement  are  those  of  the  author 
of  the  play. 

PATSY  AND   LAURA 
Scene  (i)  Conversation  between  Patsy  and  Laura. 

(Patsy)  I  wonder  where  Laura  is.    I  hope  she  will  come. 

(Laura)  Here  I  am  Patsy  ready  to  play  with  you.  I  brought 

Celia  with  me. 

(Patsy)  Oh  there  she  is  with  that  horrid  old  doll  again.  I 

know  your  mother  bought  that  doll  in  the  Five  and 
Ten  cent  store.  My  pretty  Anna  came  from  Paris. 

(Laura)  My  Celia  looks  just  as  pretty  as  your  Anna. 

(Patsy)  Now  don't  you  say  that  any  more  Laura.  You  know 

very  well  that  Anna  is  far  prettier  than  Celia.  Can't 
you  see  her  beautiful  head  and  curling  hair  and  such 
pretty  eyes  and  the  lovely  clothes  my  grandma  makes 
for  her. 

[234] 


READING,  LANGUAGE,  AND  LITERATURE 

(Laura)  You  know,  Patsy,  that  my  mama  is  very  feeble,  she 

cannot  even  sew  as  well  as  your  grandma. 

(Patsy)  Come  here  Laura  I'll  tell  you  something.  We'll 

run  off  to  my  grandma  and  ask  her  to  make  Celia 
some  clothes. 

(Laura)  Oh  that's  delightful    Let  us  go  right  away. 

Scene  (2)  Grandmother  in  sitting  room. 

(Patsy)  Grandma  ? 

(Grandmother)  What  my  little  dears  what  ? 

(Patsy)  I  want  to  ask  you  if  you  will  make  some  clothes  for 

Laura's  doll. 
(Grandmother)  Of  course    I    will    I'll  begin   right  off.    Hand  me 

your  doll   Laura.     Why  Laura    is   that  your  doll. 

Well,  well,  well,  I  should  think  you  need  another 

one.    Here's  one  my  dear. 
(Laura)  Oh  thank  you  ever  so  much. 

(Grandmother)  Now  there  will  be  no  quarreling  both  the  dolls  are 

the  same.  Run  off  and  play  together.   Now  both  of 

them  are  jolly.    Oh !  how  short  the  time  is.    I  hear 

the  bell  calling  me  to  dinner.    I  must  leave  my  work 

and  go. 

This  little  play  is  well  worth  close  analysis.  One  thing, 
at  least,  stands  out,  namely,  that  the  larger  controlling 
features  are  better  managed  than  the  lesser  consistencies. 

These  few  cases  are  perhaps  sufficient  to  show  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  teaching  of  reading  must  necessarily  ad- 
vance. The  main  clew  likely  to  lead  to  future  progress  is 
a  further  study  of  spoken  language.  In  following  this,  it  is 
easily  seen  that  the  most  important  condition  of  both  spoken 
and  written  language  is  their  service  in  social  relationships. 
Both  are  merely  means  of  communication,  and  thus  must 
constantly  and  steadily  be  used  as  such  by  the  children 
themselves,  if  either  satisfactory  technique  or  understand- 
ing is  to  be  looked  for.  The  business  of  the  teacher  is  not 
[235] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

so  much  to  drill  and  lesson  the  children  as  to  help  them  to 
organize  themselves  socially,  to  stimulate  a  flow  of  honor 
feelings  from  one  to  another,  and  to  give  each  a  chance  to 
make  and  unmake  the  habit  and  opinion  of  his  fellows. 

REFERENCES 

1.  Donovan,    The    Festal    Origin   of    Human    Speech,    Mind, 
Vol.  XVI,  October,   1891. 

2.  Henry  D.  Lloyd,  Man  the  Social  Creator.    New  York,  1906. 

3.  G.    Stanley    Hall,    Children's    Fears,  American  Journal  of 
Psychology,  Vol.  VIII. 


[236] 


CHAPTER  X 

MANUAL  ARTS :  INDUSTRIAL  AND  CONSTRUCTIVE 
WORK 

It  may  safely  be  said  that  manual  arts  are  more  funda- 
mental to  the  development  of  humanity  than  even  the 
power  to  read  and  write.  They  have,  nevertheless,  been 
tardily  recognized  on  the  programmes  of  modern  schools. 
Many  a  so-called  "  safe  "  educator  is  still  gazing  mildly  at 
them,  when  he  is  not  actually  hostile.  The  reason  of  this 
belated  recognition  is  not  far  to  seek.  The  school  began 
as  an  accessory  to  real  life,  and  was  limited  at  first  to  the 
accessory  classes  of  the  community.  The  aristocratic  feudal 
education  despised  work.  Education,  to  quote  Spencer's 
phrase,  was  largely  ornamental,  and  the  main  virtue  to 
be  inculcated  under  the  ornament  was  obedience  of  either 
a  military  or  a  monastic  order.  Later  on,  when  people's 
schools  were  started,  as  in  New  England,  elementary  man- 
ual arts  were  already  taught  at  home.  To-day  the  high 
specialization  of  modern  labor  makes  it  impossible  to  teach 
these  fundamental  life  activities  and  the  morals  that  guide 
them,  except  in  schools.  Even  the  apprentice  system  has 
disappeared. 

The  apperceptive  masses  of  commonplace  educators,  as 

this  condition  is  forced  upon  them,  assimilate  these  new 

studies  to  the  old  ones,  with  which  the  pedagogic  mind  is 

more  familiar.    Manual  training  is  organized  as  a  subject, 

[237] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

as  much  like  previous  subjects  as  possible.  Paradigms  in 
joints  are  substituted  for  those  in  Latin.  Even  the  declen- 
sions have  their  analogues  in  painfully  graded  exercises  in 
wood  or  metal.  But  military  obedience  is  thereby  saved, 
examinations  are  still  possible,  courses  of  study  can  be 
made,  the  ordinary  "  culture  "  and  the  ordinary  discipline, 
although  manifestly  in  reduced  circumstances,  continue  to 
pay  their  calls.  This  blindness  and  this  narrowness  is 
sometimes  called  a  compromise. 

Many  pupils  seize  the  essentials  in  spite  of  the  form,  but 
others  are  disheartened.  Mr.  H.  D.  Lloyd's  notion,  that 
because  boys  from  different  homes  work  together  at  the 
same  bench  they  will  therefore  honor  labor  and  love  their 
comrades,  is  not  so  true  as  we  could  wish.  Whether  they 
will  or  not,  depends  on  why  they  are  working,  and  whether 
they  have  realized  that  comradeship  is  help,  either  given  or 
received.  Why  are  they  working  ?  Is  it  to  produce  ideas  ? 
The  joy  of  the  artist  in  his  work  is  the  spring  of  all  satis- 
factory labor.  The  essence  of  this  is  the  idea  which  he  is 
producing.  But  however  useful  in  its  place,  the  analogy 
of  the  highly  developed  artist,  such  as  the  painter,  is  fre- 
quently a  stumbling-block.  In  his  case  the  ideas  to  be  real- 
ized are  largely  within  his  personal  control.  Ideas  in  the 
ordinary  manual  arts,  on  the  contrary,  are  realized  by 
cooperation  and  the  division  of  labor.  The  magnitude  of 
the  work  demands  it.  What  becomes,  then,  of  the  artistic 
and  creative  intelligence  of  the  individual  laborer  ?  Is  he 
not  forced  to  work  at  a  part  in  obedience  to  the  orders 
of  others  ? 

This  is  certainly  what  results  when  the  laborer  is  not 

educated.   But  is  it  not  precisely  to  overcome  this  economic 

[238] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

and  ethical  defect  that  our  schools  for  manual  training  are 
established?  Why,  then,  should  they  repeat  the  artistic 
and  social  faults  of  uneducated  labor  ?  Why  should  pupils 
be  asked  to  do  work  which  does  not  spring  from  their 
own  minds  as  a  result  of  their  productive  and  creative 
imagination  ? 

The  reason  for  this  is  near  at  hand.  It  is  not  seen  that 
productive  and  creative  work,  when  it  is  large  enough  to 
require  many  hands,  requires  also  a  social  organization  to 
carry  it  out.  This  social  organization  is  a  tool  more  impor- 
tant than  planes  or  chisels.  Pupils  should  be  trained  in  its 
creation  and  its  use  as  much  as  and  even  more  than  they 
are  trained  in  the  use  of  any  material  tool.  To  make  or 
help  to  make  a  serviceable  social  organization,  in  order  to 
produce  results  in  iron,  wood,  or  clay,  is  itself  a  work  of 
art.  But  unfortunately,  instead  of  training  pupils  in  social 
organization,  most  teachers  borrow  second-hand  the  crude 
organization  of  the  past  labor  world,  descended  as  it  is 
from  military  and  feudal  times,  and  still  maintained  and 
multiplied  by  modern  oppression.  They  accept  it  as  a 
necessity,  use  it  blindly,  and,  without  intending  to  do  so, 
pass  on  to  their  pupils  its  unchristian  practice  and  its 

,     worn-out  philosophy. 

The  present  labor  world  is  becoming  wiser.  It  is  begin- 
ning to  understand,  in  a  certain  dim  way,  that  conscious 
social  organization  is  imperative.  Workmen  are  uniting  all 
over  the  world.  The  immediate  purpose  is  to  protect  their 
jobs  and  increase  their  wages.  The  more  remote  purpose 

fj    is  somewhat  vague.     Many  look  to  a  reconstruction  of 
society  along  socialistic  lines.    This  is  the  old  a  priori  dis- 
ease, and  consists  in  picturing  an  accomplished  state  of 
[239] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

affairs,  although  remote  and  inaccessible,  in  order  to  get 
the  easy  opportunity  of  making  deductions.  To  obtain  con- 
trol of  the  tools  of  production  is  admittedly  the  logical  aim 
of  those  who  work.  But  what  are  the  tools  of  production, 
and  who  are  those  who  work  ?  Social  organization  is  the 
principal  tool,  and  all  who  work  on  this  are  genuine  work- 
men. It  is  not  practical  to  assume  an  ideal,  and  therefore 
an  a  priori  societary  tool.  Numerous  experiments  in  all 
walks  of  life  are  necessary  in  producing  such  tools,  in  order 
that  growth  and  selection  may  give  increasing  control.  Sud- 
denly inject  the  socialistic  state  —  and  who  could  run  it? 
Cooperation  in  smaller  groups  is  more  feasible,  followed  by 
natural  federation  into  large  protective  unions. 

This  cooperation,  however,  must  be  a  cooperation  of  ideas 
and  of  life.  Production  is  for  the  sake  of  consumption. 
Man  as  a  producer  is  not  exploited  any  more  viciously  than 
man  as  a  consumer.  In  the  latter  role  he  is  robbed  and 
fooled  at  every  turn,  and  rarely  gets  what  he  wants.  Inar- 
tistic consumption  is  just  as  bad  as  inartistic  work.  Art  for 
art's  sake,  or  work  for  work's  sake,  are  both  quite  mis- 
leading. The  artist  and  the  worker  have  joy  in  their  work 
only  when  they  feel  that  they  are  producing  with  and  for 
those  with  whom  they  are  united  in  social  bonds,  and  to 
whom  they  look  for  love,  admiration,  honor.  The  social 
organization  that  workers  need  is  one  that  definitely 
includes  consumers. 

How  this  is  to  be  worked  out  on  the  large  scale  of  an 
adult  society  is  not  our  immediate  concern.  Helpful  be- 
ginnings, however,  are  made  in  various  places.  Municipali- 
zation  or  communization  of  various  economic  functions, 
although  far  from  fully  social,  have  already  shown  their 
[240] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

right  to  live.  But  education  must  not  wait  till  things  are 
already  accomplished.  That  education  is  comparatively  in- 
effectual which  merely  imitates  the  existing  state  of  society, 
and  aims  to  bring  up  the  young  for  nothing  better  than  to 
fit  in,  more  or  less  exactly,  to  given  conditions.  Present 
conditions  are  always  dying  out,  and  if  we  begin,  ten  years 
before  his  graduation,  to  fit  a  boy  for  his  particular  niche, 
the  particular  niche  may  meanwhile  disappear.  To  what  an 
enormous  extent  has  the  whole  industrial  business  and  pro- 
fessional world  changed  in  the  last  few  years  !  To  be  practi- 
cally efficient,  education  must  lead  as  well  as  follow.  It 
can  never  divest  itself  of  the  function  of  assisting  in  the 
creation  of  society. 

The  school  is,  above  all,  an  embryonic  community  which, 
although  simpler  and  more  generalized,  forms  the  key  to 
the  adult  community  of  citizens  into  which  it  is  to  grow. 
Municipalization  and  other  social  aims  must  be  partly 
worked  out  in  the  schools  before  they  can  reach  any  great 
ethical  depth  in  the  community  as  a  whole.  To  prevent  the 
full  realization  of  the  cooperative  spirit  of  the  social  embryo 
is  to  malform  and  degenerate  that  which  should  result  from 
it.  Mere  intellectual  knowledge  of  civics,  customs  of  vot- 
ing, etc.,  will  never  nourish  the  soul  of  youth,  unless  this 
knowledge  is  experimented  with  and  proved  to  be  a  power 
in  gaining  results  actually  wished  for  by  the  pupils  them- 
selves. For  this  kind  of  experimenting  there  is  no  better  op- 
portunity than  is  afforded  in  manual  training  and  industrial 
work.  Here  results  are  concrete  and  objective,  even  to 
the  dullest  mind.  This  we  see  clearly  from  the  individual 
standpoint  and  in  application  to  the  mere  material  worked 
with.  To  the  social  point  of  view  we  are  strangely  blind. 
[241] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Children  themselves  are  not  so  blind  in  this  respect  as 
most  of  their  teachers  are  for  them.  When  they  want  to 
do  a  thing  of  any  complexity  or  magnitude,  they  naturally 
look  for  help  among  their  comrades  and  such  adults  as  they 
can  interest.  They  size  up  the  fitness  of  these  different  in- 
dividuals with  considerable  accuracy,  and  select  them  to 
perform  different  functions  in  the  group  which  is  thus 
created.  If  they  do  not  succeed  perfectly  at  first,  they 
learn  rapidly  by  experience.  They  instinctively  rely  on  the 
specialists  among  them,  who  have  shown  their  capacity  in 
different  directions. 

A  superficial  observer  of  children's  activities  is  accus- 
tomed to  think  that  children  work  and  play  just  to  be 
together,  and  have  no  particular  interest  in  what  they  pro- 
duce. This  is  partly  true  of  a  certain  class  of  activities,  but 
there  are  others  where  the  thing  produced  is  the  key  to  the 
situation.  Whoever  has  seen  children  building  a  house,  for 
example,  ought  to  have  observed  that  cooperation  and  divi- 
sion of  labor,  social  organization,  selection,  and  leadership 
were  used  as  means  and  tools,  largely  for  the  sake  of  the 
product  which  all  were  to  enjoy.  That  such  work  is  not 
conducted  wholly  for  the  product  and  its  future  use,  but 
partly  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  process  also,  is,  however,  a 
factor  which  is  most  important,  and  one  which  would  solve 
many  of  our  labor  difficulties  if  the  adult  world  could  be 
brought  to  understand  and  use  it. 

The  process  at  work  is  not  simply  the  exhilaration  of 
physical  exercise.  It  is  much  more  the  social  touch  and 
comradeship  of  group  activity.  It  depends  upon  selection 
for  its  effectiveness.  A  mere  heterogeneous  crowd  will  not 
undertake  such  work  unless  compelled.  Those  who  have 
[242] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

sufficient  mutual  liking,  confidence,  or  admiration  to  enable 
them  to  overlook  slight  disagreements  are  the  only  units 
out  of  which  free  social  organization  can  arise.  This  carries 
with  it  the  necessity  to  exclude  for  the  time  being  (and 
with  all  friendliness)  others  who  do  not  fit  in  with  the 
genius  of  the  enterprise.  The  effectiveness  of  the  group 
is  tested,  in  the  first  place,  by  its  power  to  hold  itself  to- 
gether. It  is,  as  a  consequence  of  this,  that  it  can  produce 
satisfactory  results. 

When  children  spontaneously  organize  in  this  way,  why 
do  our  manual  training  schools  and  manual  arts  courses  fail 
to  recognize  and  enlarge  these  truly  human  and  productive 
powers?  To  utilize  them  successfully  would  help  on  a 
twentieth-century  renaissance  which  would  far  outshine 
the  renaissance  of  the  Middle  Ages.  To  put  the  whole 
workman  into  the  work  always  leads  to  the  most  produc- 
tive ends.  To  increase  the  practical  understanding  of  such 
cooperative  work  is  one  of  the  best  services  of  social  educa- 
tion to  the  adult  community  as  well  as  to  the  young,  and 
as  it  permeates  the  whole  of  society,  it  will  slowly  mitigate 
the  present  crude  and  tyrannical  practice,  where  too  much 
work  is  done  without  joy,  without  honor,  and  without 
responsibility. 

Let  us  look  at  the  question  for  a  moment  from  the  phys- 
iological side.  To  train  the  hand  as  an  organ  of  the  indi- 
vidual brain,  to  show  that  the  motor  regions  of  the  cortex 
are  necessary  to  vital  thinking,  is  a  solid  advance  for  the 
theory  of  manual  arts,  but  these  considerations  are  con- 
cerned at  present  primarily  with  individual  mechanism,  and 
omit  important  aspects  of  this.  The  special  social  regions 
of  the  brain,  the  language  centers,  the  directive  centers  of 
[243] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

the  frontal  lobes  (if  Flechsig's  localizations  be  admitted), 
are  equally  important  for  the  individual  regarded  as  a  unit, 
while  for  the  individual  regarded  as  a  member  of  society 
they  are  absolutely  necessary.  It  is  the  brain  as  a  whole 
that  must  be  trained,  and  this  cannot  well  be  done  if  the 
various  functions  are  severally  stimulated,  first  one  and 
then  another,  but  without  definitely  recognizing  their  power 
to  associate,  —  a  power  that  can  never  be  gained  without  a 
normal  and  natural  social  environment. 

Why  should  this  largest  and  controlling  work  in  brain 
building  be  left  to  chance,  to  unreasoned  pedagogic  habit, 
or  to  a  comfortable  hope  in  the  future  ?  To  expect  pupils 
to  combine  powers  in  later  life  which  have  been  separately 
polished  in  school  is  like  handing  them  the  parts  of  a  deli- 
cate machine  whose  function  is  unknown,  and  wondering 
why  they  do  not  put  these  parts  together.  The  result  is 
that  thousands  sell  single  parts  to  others,  who  build  mis- 
shapen machines  to  suit  themselves.  To  teach  the  pupil 
to  be  the  bench  assembler  of  his  own  brain  capacities  will 
not  prevent,  but  will  necessitate,  his  dovetailing  in  his  own 
mechanism  to  that  of  others;  and  to  allow  him  to  dovetail 
socially  is  the  only  way  of  teaching  him  to  assemble  indi- 
vidually. Resourcefulness,  initiative,  and  gumption  are 
social  powers,  and  can  never  be  cultivated  alone.  Without 
them  mere  manual  skill  is  largely  wasted. 

In  earlier  chapters  we  have  already  described  several 
cases  of  self-organized  group  work  as  applied  to  manual 
training  in  the  schools.  In  fact,  children  select  work  of 
this  kind  in  much  larger  proportion  than  adult-made  cur- 
ricula are  usually  willing  to  recognize.  If  the  courses  of 
study  were  made  more  largely  by  children  themselves,  we 
[244] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

should  find  a  great  increase  of  industrial  and  constructive 
work  immediately  appearing  in  the  schools.  For  this  there 
is  both  an  instinctive  and  an  intellectual  reason  on  their 
part.  Children  are  more  motor-minded  than  adults,  in  the 
sense  that  they  have  a  more  pressing  need  for  the  immedi- 
ate motor  realization  of  their  ideas. 

But  there  is,  perhaps,  a  deeper  reason.  Children  are  sur- 
rounded by  a  world  which  they  do  not  understand,  and 
they  differ  from  some  adults  in  that  they  usually  realize 
this  and  make  attempts  to  penetrate  it.  They  see  around 
them  all  kinds  of  industrial  activity,  railroading,  bridge 
building,  house  building,  road  making,  dressmaking,  cook- 
ing, etc.  These  haunt  their  imagination.  Children  cannot 
look  upon  them  passively  until  they  understand  them  to 
the  depth  that  their  mental  capacity  will  allow.  How  is 
it  that  a  wagon  runs,  or  that  a  fire  is  made  ?  There  is  no 
answer  to  such  questions  until  it  comes  through  the  expe- 
rience of  controlling  action.  The  child  must  experiment  to 
know.  In  this  work  the  main  difficulty  that  the  child  strives 
to  overcome  is  one  of  synthesis.  The  various  details  are 
seen,  but  they  are  intellectually  scattered  until  they  are 
united  by  actual  construction.  At  the  beginning  the  child's 
point  of  view  is  not  to  make  things  exactly  like  the  objects 
that  he  sees,  and  serviceable  from  our  adult  standpoint. 
His  production  is  serviceable  to  him,  if  it  unites  for  him  in 
his  own  mind  and  in  the  minds  of  those  on  his  own  level 
the  features  in  the  adult  production  which  he  has  been 
able  to  observe. 

In  accordance  with  this  need  to  synthesize,  manual 
training  and  the  industrial  arts  begin  in  the  young  child's 
mind  as  a  kind  of  dramatizing.  The  nature  of  this  may  be 
[245] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

illustrated  by  a  case  which  is  principally  dramatizing,  and 
gives  but  indications  of  material  construction.  A  little  girl 
who  had  just  begun  to  go  to  school  carried  a  number  of 
buttons  in  her  pocket.  There  were  a  number  of  little 
smooth  white  ones  and  one  big  black  bristly  one.  These 
she  occasionally  took  out  and  arranged  to  represent  the 
scholars  and  the  teacher  in  her  school,  supplying  the  con- 
versation and  the  proper  climaxes  as  she  went  along.  This 
varied  from  time  to  time.  There  was  no  single  drama. 
What  use  were  the  buttons  ?  Simply  to  keep  her  mind 
from  wandering.  When  she  got  through  with  the  cross 
words  of  the  bristly  one  and  the  chain  of  images  connected 
therewith,  she  was  confronted  by  the  chance  of  a  fatal  gap 
and  the  possibility  of  losing  the  whole  thread  of  her  per- 
formance. But  when  the  little  buttons  stood  patiently 
ready  she  could  wait  with  safety  for  them  to  remind  her 
of  the  next  step. 

Grown  people  use  similar  devices.  Train  dispatchers 
frequently  provide  themselves  with  models  of  cars  and 
engines,  which  they  arrange  over  the  floor  of  a  room  just 
as  the  trains  are  to  be  found  at  any  given  moment  through- 
out the  division.  Von  Moltke  is  said  to  have  had,  during 
the  war  of  1870-1871,  a  room  representing  France  and 
Germany,  and  covered  with  toy  battalions  placed  exactly 
as  described  by  the  latest  dispatches  from  the  field.  The 
handful  of  buttons  is  really  a  simple  piece  of  material 
construction,  and  shows  the  germ  of  all  more  elaborate 
manufacture. 

Indeed,  all  our  complicated  industries  are  but  means  of 
enhancing  life,  and  are  useful  only  as  they  help  us  to  syn- 
thesize our  thought  or  feeling.  With  a  pen,  a  table,  a  book, 
[246] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

a  chair,  proper  clothes,  and  a  roof  over  one's  head,  feelings 
and  thoughts  are  less  discontinuous,  and  one's  image  of 
life  becomes  more  satisfactory  and  complete.  It  is  in  order 
to  get  these  results  that  we  take  the  trouble  to  reconstruct 
the  material  world,  and  build  bridges,  railroads,  steamboats, 
houses,  looms,  and  printing  presses.  Our  thoughts  and 
feelings  are  pragmatically  measured  by  what  they  accom- 
plish in  yielding  us  all  larger,  more  consistent,  more  social, 
more  attractive  and  lovely  thoughts  and  feelings.  Von 
Moltke  was  not  only  dramatizing  his  toy  battalions,  he 
was  reconstructing  Europe.  In  the  same  way  the  child 
was  attempting  to  reconstruct  her  world  with  her  buttons 
and  her  drama,  and  was  doubtless  succeeding  in  doing  it. 

To  recover  constructive  work  for  the  soul  is  the  only 
way  to  make  it  educative  or  even  practical ;  and  it  is  the 
only  way  to  make  it  serve  the  progress  of  the  labor  world. 
No  one  cares  to  construct  just  for  the  sake  of  constructing, 
although  it  is  the  curse  of  uneducated  labor  to  be  forced  in 
large  measure  to  do  so.  Material  construction  must  be  felt 
to  be  a  part  of  the  construction  of  life  in  order  to  give  it 
human  value. 

As  a  step  to  this  human  value,  dramatizing  is  a  great,  if 
not  a  necessary,  feature.  Dramatizing  is,  after  all,  only  a 
kind  of  concrete  and  creative  planning,  which  prepares  the 
way  for  real  action.  It  moreover  always  emphasizes  the 
social  aspects  of  the  plan,  and  often  gives  an  opportunity 
for  other  individuals  actually  to  take  part.  It  is  natural  for 
children  to  begin  their  constructive  efforts,  as  applied  to 
material,  within  the  circle  of  their  social  relationships,  and 
to  produce  either  for  an  actual,  or,  more  frequently,  for  a 
dramatized  social  need. 

[247] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

In  working  out  these  schemes  children  are  not  usually 
in  a  position  to  have  adults  make  models  to  help  them  defi- 
nitely in  the  construction  which  they  most  wish  to  under- 
stand. They  must,  therefore,  make  their  own.  There  is, 
however,  a  further  reason.  Children  have  an  immediate 
desire  to  construct  for  themselves.  Simple  dramatizing, 
with  the  weight  on  personal  relationships,  begins  to  develop 
into  an  interest  in  the  structure  itself.  A  small  child  will 
accept  a  toy  wagon  ready-made,  and  dramatize  social  rela- 
tions with  it.  Later  on,  he  wants  to  know  how  it  is  made, 
and  will  prefer  to  make  one  for  himself.  This  interest  in 
structure  is  definitely  related  to  the  dramatizing  instinct, 
and  is  indeed  an  offshoot  of  it.  In  thinking  out  the  struc- 
ture, the  child  thinks  of  its  parts  as  he  thinks  of  the  per- 
sons in  a  play.  The  spoke  will  do  this,  the  axle  that,  — 
will  play  this  or  that  part,  as  our  idiom  unconsciously 
expresses  it.  His  need  now  is  to  synthesize  all  these  parts 
and  make  of  them  a  working  whole.  Just  what  are  the 
features  that  make  them  work  together  ?  Is  it  the  exact 
length  ?  Is  it  the  red  paint,  or  what  ?  To  gain  a  concep- 
tion of  what  a  wagon  is  essentially,  he  sees  that  his  actors 
in  the  drama  do  not  need  to  be  exactly  and  painfully 
imitated.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  do  superficial  imi- 
tations satisfy  him.  Cardboard  wagons,  for  example,  leave 
out  just  the  essential  thing  he  wants  to  get,  and  do  not 
give  him  the  slightest  help  in  real  construction,  although 
they  may  be  useful  in  other  kinds  of  dramatizing.  Mere 
analysis  is  not  sufficient.  He  may  take  the  wagon  to 
pieces  and  have  no  good  idea  of  how  to  put  it  together, 
or  even  if  he  succeeds  in  doing  this,  he  has  not  learned 
the  essential  characteristics  of  the  various  parts,  and  the 
[248] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

limits  within  which  they  may  vary  and  still  accomplish 
the  purpose. 

The  thing  he  wants  to  do,  and  needs  to  do  at  this  stage, 
is  to  make  a  translation  of  the  original  wagon  which  he 
desires  to  understand.  This  requires  some  resourcefulness, 
some  invention,  some  imagination.  He  must  choose  such 
material  as  he  thinks  will  do,  and  he  will  naturally  lighten 
his  task  by  omitting  the  features  which  are  not,  in  his 
expectation,  quite  essential.  His  mental  process  is  a  kind 
of  reasoning,  partly  inductive  and  partly  deductive.  He 
builds  a  working  hypothesis  as  to  how  the  wagon  works, 
and  proceeds  to  verify  it  by  making  the  wagon. 

While  dramatizing  that  involves  only  persons  thus  runs 
into  and  gives  rise  to  construction  of  material,  it  rarely,  if 
ever,  does  so  without  retaining  a  real  connection  with  its 
offspring,  —  a  sort  of  umbilical  cord  which  feeds  the  new 
tendency.  The  wagon  is  made  not  merely  for  the  wagon's 
sake  or  in  order  to  understand  the  method  of  manufacture, 
but  for  a  wider  purpose  of  some  kind.  The  child  thinks 
how  fine  it  will  be  to  use  it  in  this  way  or  that.  He  invents 
all  sorts  of  situations  where  the  wagon  will  be  the  hero  of 
the  play.  In  doing  this  he  constantly  has  other  persons  in 
mind,  and  this  larger  drama  feeds  his  ambitions  and  gives 
deeper  social  motive  to  his  work.  Many  manual  training 
courses  cut  the  umbilical  cord  and  destroy  the  social  motive, 
though  it  is  encouraging  to  note  that  this  is  becoming  less 
and  less  the  rule. 

In  cases  where  the  natural  social  motive  has  been 
removed,  the  prescribed  course  of  study  and  the  ready- 
made  teacher  attempt  to  substitute  some  other  motive. 
They  say  practically  to  the  child,  "  You  must  do  this  work 
[249] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

because  it  will  be  useful  to  you  in  your  adult  life."  Unless 
the  child  is  capable  of  reflecting  on  his  coming  duties  as  a 
father  of  a  family  and  a  citizen  of  the  community,  he  does 
not  get  the  full  force  of  this  counsel.  In  fact,  he  gets  so 
little  of  it  that  no  teacher  would  ever  think  of  such  a  motive 
as  self-sustaining.  It  is,  after  all,  the  here  and  now  that 
gives  fundamental  and  self-sustaining  motives  to  the  child. 
The  hope  of  immortality  in  the  Valhalla  of  the  grown-ups 
is  not  sufficient  for  his  needs.  No  child  really  desiring  to 
make  a  wagon  has  any  motive  referring  to  adult  life  except 
as  a  remote  accessory  to  others.  The  teacher  therefore 
backs  this  up  by  the  hope  of  promotion  to  the  next  grade, 
and,  as  a  step  to  this,  perhaps  a  mark,  or,  at  least,  approval 
for  the  day. 

This  is  what  the  so-called  practical  teacher  does,  and 
having  done  so,  he  is  supposed  to  get  the  child  "  interested  " 
in  his  work.  Tremendous  intellectual  contortions  are  per- 
formed to  show  how  this  may  be  done,  and  the  outcome  is 
far  from  satisfactory.  A  much  pleasanter  and  more  effect- 
ive r61e  awaits  the  teacher  who  can  see  that  what  is  needed 
is  to  turn  the  thing  around,  and  half  the  time,  at  least,  to 
allow  the  child  to  interest  him. 

Even  where  teachers  realize  that  it  is  good  for  children 
to  have  some  use  for  the  things  they  make,  they  frequently 
invent  this  use  for  them.  Something  altruistic,  from  the 
teacher's  standpoint,  is  frequently  chosen.  "Let  us  all 
make  ironing  boards  for  our  mothers,  and  you  can  take 
them  home,  and  your  mothers  will  be  so  proud  of  them." 
Bookcases,  paper  knives,  pencil  holders,  etc.,  go  to  supply 
an  imaginary  demand.  The  child  often  knows  beforehand 
that  there  is  no  real  wish  for  these  things.  But  the  high, 
[250] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

ethical  motive  of  self-sacrifice  does  not  need  to  inquire. 
"  Don't  tell  till  you  have  it  all  done ;  it  will  be  such  a 
surprise." 

Admit  cooperation  and  the  production  of  individual 
ideas,  and  we  have  quite  a  different  state  of  affairs.  The 
child  no  longer  wastes  his  work.  He  takes  the  consumers 
into  account,  and  he  is  likely  to  be  one  of  the  consumers 
himself.  But  he  is  not  selfish.  He  shares  his  work  product, 
and  he  looks  forward  to  doing  so,  although  the  sharing  is 
largely  with  those  on  his  own  level.  Two  boys  may  make 
a  wagon  together,  or  a  sled,  and  reap  the  advantages  of 
division  of  labor  and  rapid  execution.  In  these  cases  they 
look  forward  to  a  common  use,  and  it  is  this  which  guides 
the  production.  They  produce  together  because  they  have 
confidence  enough  in  each  other  to  think  of  sharing.  But 
while  two  boys  in  a  room  of  fifty  may  cooperate  in  this 
way,  it  will  never  happen  that  two  more,  and  two  more, 
will  do  so  until  the  fifty  are  exhausted.  Confidence  is  not 
so  mathematical  as  that,  nor  do  all  happen  to  want  sleds 
or  wagons  at  the  same  time. 

If  individual  interest  is  to  be  maintained  and  a  natural 
ethical  spirit  developed,  production  must  be  organized  in 
relation  to  consumption.  There  will  be  all  kinds  of  pur- 
poses relating  to  production  and  consumption  in  the  minds 
of  fifty  children.  It  is  simply  a  matter  of  foresight  on  their 
part  to  see  what  can  actually  be  accomplished.  It  is  at  this 
point  that  full  discussion  and  estimation  of  consequences 
is  most  valuable.  Here  the  teacher  can  help  through  his 
greater  experience.  Such  discussion  is,  in  reality,  a  kind 
of  preliminary  acting-out,  and  during  its  course  some  of 
the  things*  first  desired  are  seen  to  be  unsatisfactory, 
[251] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

intrinsically  or  because  of  the  circumstances.  The  foresight 
gained  by  mutual  discussion  limits  the  things  desired,  and 
leaves  over  a  number  of  more  practicable  plans.  The  dis- 
cussion also  leads  to  better  cooperation.  New  confidences 
in  one  another  are  awakened  by  the  attitude  taken  and  the 
knowledge  revealed  during  the  planning  stage.  The  case 
already  described  (p.  131)  where  a  third  and  fourth  grade 
united  to  build  a  house  and  to  decorate  and  furnish  it 
shows  all  these  stages  in  full  activity. 

It  may  be  pointed  out,  however,  that  such  a  wide  degree 
of  confidence  and  organizing  capacity  cannot  always  happen, 
nor  is  it  to  be  expected.  Indeed,  where  the  class  divides 
into  a  number  of  groups  there  is  frequently  a  more  intense 
cooperation  and  a  more  easily  managed  kind  of  organiza- 
tion. A  large  variety  in  the  products  to  be  consumed,  with 
the  consequent  variety  in  the  organizations  which  produce 
them,  is  not  lost  upon  the  children.  They  compare  the 
different  products,  and  borrow  good  features  of  group  or- 
ganization from  each  other.  It  is  difficult  to  say  whether 
they  get  most  out  of  the  large  scheme  of  organization  which 
definitely  involves  the  whole  class,  or  out  of  the  multiplica- 
tion of  smaller  groups.  Both  are  useful  where  they  are 
real,  and  have  been  invented  to  further  real  desires  of  the 
children  themselves. 

Constructive  work,  manual  training,  and  industrial  work, 
as  these  are  understood  in  the  schools,  naturally  raise  the 
question  of  vocational  or  continuation  schools.  These  already 
exist  for  the  more  favored  classes  as  technical  and  profes- 
sional schools,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  glaring  injustices 
of  our  educational  system  that  they  are  not  also  provided 
for  those  classes  of  the  community  which  have  naturally 
[252] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

the  most  difficulty  in  making  their  way  in  life.  The 
lack  of  such  schools,  even  on  the  basis  of  our  present 
coercive  industrial  organization,  results  in  enormous  waste 
in  production. 

As  a  recent  report  of  the  Massachusetts  Industrial 
Commission  shows,  the  work  of  boys  and  girls  from  four- 
teen to  sixteen  years  of  age  is  worth  so  little,  and  is  so 
poorly  paid,  that  those  who  work  during  this  period  actually 
earn  less  before  they  are  twenty,  and  much  less  before  they 
are  thirty,  despite  their  two  extra  years  of  labor,  than  do 
those  who  are  better  prepared.  Although  selection  of  those 
who  are  most  fit  by  nature  may  contribute  to  this  result,  it 
does  not  seem  unreasonable  to  assume  that  skill  and  habits 
gained  by  proper  preparation  play  the  greater  part.  Trade 
schools  that  succeed  most  emphatically  in  raising  the  wages 
of  their  graduates,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Manhattan  Trade 
School  of  New  York,  sometimes  actually  select  the  least 
promising  of  those  who  leave  the  public  schools  at  fourteen. 
But  the  reality  and  concreteness  of  the  tasks  appeal  to  the 
children.  They  are  able  to  see  into  them  as  they  were  not 
able  to  see  into  their  previous  school  work ;  and  although 
their  experimenting  is  within  narrow  lines  and  too  strictly 
confined  to  material  things,  they  are  able  to  see  the  results 
and  to  measure  them  by  actual  conditions  in  the  labor  world. 

Trade  schools,  however,  are  only  patches  joining  the 
ragged  garments  of  our  educational  and  industrial  systems. 
They  simply  educate  the  child  so  that  he  can  be  used  as  a 
cog  in  some  industrial  wheel  —  a  thing  they  can  do  well  be- 
cause they  are  close  to  the  wheel.  They  send  out  individual 
parts  well  enough  fitted  to  prevent  them  from  being  thrown 
into  the  scrap  heap.  For  this  they  deserve  high  honor. 
[253] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

But  the  common  schools,  when  they  are  true  to  their  ideals, 
have  a  deeper  and  more  comprehensive  task.  Their  place 
is  to  train  human  beings  for  citizenship.  Although  we  can- 
not have  good  citizens  without  vocations,  neither  can  we 
have  them  without  a  culture  which  brings  them  into  con- 
tact with  the  broader  interests  of  humanity.  The  power 
to  organize  and  to  appreciate  existing  conditions  for  the 
worthiest  aims,  whether  for  work  or  play,  is  the  chiefest 
virtue  of  a  citizen.  Merely  reading  or  hearing  about  such 
organization  will  never  produce  satisfactory  results.  Habits, 
insight,  and  judgment  gained  from  actual  experience  are 
the  only  practicable  and  progressive  educational  instru- 
ments. Pupils  must  be  trained  to  create  society,  not  to 
float  in  it. 

The  constructive  and  manual  training  courses  in  our 
high  and  common  schools  should  afford  the  most  admira- 
ble opening  for  this  kind  of  work.  All  studies  are,  of 
course,  to  be  measured  by  their  value  in  social  service,  but 
direct  work  with  material  yields  a  service  which  is  both 
simpler  and  more  fundamental  than  any  other  kind.  The 
aims  and  purposes  of  the  worker  doubtless  come  first ;  but 
the  complexities  of  these  cannot  be  developed  much  beyond 
the  power  to  execute,  without  becoming  fantastic  and  ster- 
ile. Science,  literature,  art,  and  philosophy  may  enlarge  our 
aims,  but  if,  either  directly  or  through  the  organization  of 
others,  they  fail  to  show  results  in  actual,  material  better- 
ment, their  spiritual  significance  is  lost  for  this  world, 
whatever  may  be  true  of  the  next.  Manual  training  and 
industrial  work  become  true  cultural  subjects  on  one  con- 
dition, namely,  that  they  be  used  to  give  the  pupils  the 
power  to  construct,  not  models  in  wood  or  clay,  but  their 
[254] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

own  lives  and  the  lives  of  those  with  whom  they  are 
united  in  self-made  social  bonds. 

With  such  a  training  widespread  in  our  schools,  we  may 
expect  to  have  steadily  growing  in  the  community  an  ethics 
founded  on  work.  This,  too,  will  be  guided  by  a  conscience 
which  works  and  which  can  work,  because  it  will  be  more 
largely  dependent  on  actual  self-organized  contact  with 
fellow-men.  Society  will  become  an  extension  of  the 
school,  and  the  work  of  social  education  will  be  kept  up 
in  later  life.  If  purpose  groups  formed  in  school  are  self- 
sustaining,  they  will  be  still  more  so  in  maturity.  Even 
now  the  kinds  of  association  which  have  been  left  to  self- 
organization  in  school  and  college,  although  they  are  of  the 
least  spiritual  and  material  significance,  show  a  considerable 
tendency  to  go  on.  Dining  clubs,  fraternities,  and  other 
friendly  organizations  of  fellows  project  themselves  far 
beyond  the  school  or  college,  and  many  are  of  the  opinion 
that  the  effects  of  such  associations  are  the  most  valuable 
results  of  a  school  or  college  course.  Even  when  these 
organizations  are  considered,  as  they  are  in  some  educa- 
tional circles,  dangerously  inimical  to  the  work  of  the 
school,  it  is  only  further  proof  of  the  unwisdom  of  allow- 
ing so  powerful  a  force  to  escape  enlistment  in  the  more 
purely  cultural  field.  When  self-organized  group  work  is 
recognized  as  the  controlling  condition  of  satisfactory  work 
in  school,  it  will  be  seen  to  apply  even  more  effectively  to 
adult  industry  and  culture. 

Some  such  extension  of  social  education  is  the  only  hope 

for  democracy.    On  any  other  lines  society  breaks  up  into 

warring  camps.    The  result  of  this  is  waste,  when  it  is  not 

positive  degeneration  affecting  both  industry  and  education. 

[255] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

As  Franz  Krauss  says,  in  his  study  on  folk  death  :  "  A 
people  which  is  divided  into  two  such  camps  can  never  avoid 
destruction,  since  extreme  wealth  and  poverty  are  condi- 
tions which  oppose  the  maintenance  and  development  of 
the  folk  body.  In  the  one  camp  there  is  failure  of  intelli- 
gence, because  the  individual  organization  is  weakened  in 
consequence  of  frivolous  and  unwholesome  lives  lasting 
through  a  file  of  generations,  —  a  fact  shown  by  the  defi- 
ciency in  organic  strength  and  natural  talent.  In  the 
other  camp  also  there  is  failure  of  intelligence  because, 
although  there  may  be  actual  constitutional  vigor,  the 
means  and  opportunity  are  lacking  for  proper  develop- 
ment. The  sentiment  of  right  is  numbed  and  the  feeling 
of  solidarity  is  lacking  on  both  sides,  and  completes  the 
picture  of  deep  decadence.  The  results  of  injustice,  coer- 
cion, exploitation,  antagonistic  friction,  produced  within 
such  a  folk  body,  or  precipitated  by  outside  oppression, 
are  written  in  terms  of  character  degeneration  and  its  ac- 
companiments. Decadence  is  plainly  bound  up  with  mal- 
formation of  social  relationships,  and  this  itself  is  again  fed 
from  the  injustice  which  finds  its  supporters  and  purveyors 
within  the  folk  body.  In  this  process  education  and  oppor- 
tunity play  an  important  part  in  that  they  bring  to  the 
surface  these  secret  changes  in  character,  which  indeed  are 
not  plainly  seen  at  once,  but  which,  in  the  succession  of 
generations,  evolve  drilled  and  sharpened,  changed  and 
degenerated  social  types." 

If  America  is  to  avoid  such  a  condition  of  affairs,  the 
schools,  long  idly  complimented  as  the  bulwark  of  our  lib- 
erties, must  be  actually  organized  to  produce  the  intelligent 
cooperation  necessary  for  their  preservation.    In  early  times 
[256] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

the  American  common  school  contained  pupils  from  all 
classes  of  the  community,  and  the  contact  of  the  children 
of  both  rich  and  poor  produced  a  fellow  feeling  not  entirely 
outgrown  in  later  life.  To-day  private  schools  for  the  rich 
are  steadily  increasing  in  number.  It  is  idle  to  inveigh 
against  this  tendency  as  an  evil  without  looking  into  the 
causes  for  the  change.  The  prime  condition  is  that  the 
rich  do  not  feel  that  the  common  school  offers  the  advan- 
tages and  opportunities  which  they  wish  their  children  to 
have.  They  do  not  measure  this  in  mere  scholarship,  but 
in  life  values  so  far  as  they  understand  them.  They  object 
not  so  much  to  the  curricula  of  the  public  schools  as  to 
the  kind  of  social  contact  to  which  their  children  are 
exposed.  If  any  one  will  think  himself  into  the  place  of 
these  parents,  he  will  find  much  to  justify  their  course. 

There  is,  however,  one  life  value  germane  to  the  common 
schools,  although  rarely  practiced  therein,  which  would  ap- 
peal powerfully  to  the  rich,  namely,  a  training  in  leadership, 
in  social  effectiveness,  and  in  honor.  The  rich  who  are  not 
degenerates  desire  to  lead  in  society.  They  desire,  honor- 
ably enough,  to  convert  a  part  of  their  wealth  into  social 
power  and  prestige,  and  even  if  this  be  impossible  for  them 
personally,  they  desire  such  opportunities  for  their  children. 
It  is  not  wholly  with  their  approval  that  they  see  their  off- 
spring grow  up  to  spend  their  lives  in  frivolity,  or  to  expa- 
triate themselves  for  mere  pleasure. 

If  the  common  schools  offered  actual  experience  in  lead- 
ership, and  an  actual  acquaintance  with  the  problems  of 
social  organization,  there  are  few  parents,  however  rich, 
who  would  not  see  the  value  of  such  a  training.  Other 
things  being  equal,  the  son  of  rich  parents  would  have 
[257] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

an  advantage  as  a  leader,  although  he  would  need  to  learn, 
by  actual  self-organized  contact  with  others,  the  limits 
of  this  advantage.  He  is  much  more  likely  to  find  this 
out  in  school,  where  practically  all  are  removed  from  the 
severity  of  economic  strain,  and  where  aims  and  purposes 
are  naturally  idealistic,  than  ever  again  in  later  life.  He 
is  also  more  likely  to  find  an  opportunity  for  his  leader- 
ship in  a  common  school  than  in  one  for  the  rich  alone. 
The  life  of  the  playground  is  absolutely  inadequate  for 
such  a  culture.  The  youngest  children  in  the  schools 
know  the  difference  between  self-organized,  productive 
work  and  mere  play,  and  where  there  is  no  cooperative 
organization  in  higher  concerns  play  itself  tends  to  revert 
to  brutal  and  uncultivated  forms.  The  contact  of  the  chil- 
dren of  the  favored  classes  with  their  less  wealthy  fellows, 
in  such  a  way  that  the  advantages  of  home  refinement  and 
material  resources  obtain  the  weight  that  they  can  naturally 
command  in  the  presence  of  ideal  interests  and  in  face  of 
the  criticisms  of  an  organized  group,  is  not  the  kind  of 
contact  to  which  the  undegenerate  rich  object.  It  is  need- 
less to  point  out  that  such  a  truly  common  school  must  be 
presided  over  by  teachers  who  know  both  rich  and  poor, 
and  who  are  capable  of  being  honored  by  both. 

In  such  a  school  constructive  work,  manual  training,  and 
industrial  work  would  form  the  foundation  of  a  large  part 
of  the  activities  of  the  children.  To  be  properly  carried 
out,  this  requires  the  best  and  most  expensive  equipment. 
Private  resources  ought  to  unite  with  general  public  taxes  in 
paying  the  bills.  For  much  of  the  self-organized  work  the 
pupils  themselves  ought  to  be  the  avenue  through  which 
the  private  support  should  flow.  Our  present  practice  of 
[258] 


MANUAL  ARTS 

putting  the  same  book  or  the  same  saw  into  the  hands 
of  every  pupil,  because,  forsooth,  the  schools  are  to  give 
equal  opportunity  for  all,  barely  preserves  the  letter,  and 
omits  a  great  part  of  the  spirit  of  real  cooperation.  Pupils 
should  have  the  opportunity  of  giving  themselves,  or  of 
interesting  their  parents  to  give,  for  specific  purposes  which 
they  wish  to  carry  out  in  combination  with  their  fellows. 
On  the  other  hand,  means  and  equipment  should  not  be 
lavished  on  those  who  do  not  know  how  to  use  them,  and 
have  no  moral  purpose  in  mind.  Things  that  are  made 
should  be  used  in  the  school,  or  possibly  sold  under  such 
regulations  as  would  prevent  competition  with  established 
industries.  It  might  even  be  possible  for  such  a  school  to 
pay  for  a  certain  part  of  its  running  expenses. 

Such  an  attitude  on  the  part  of  those  who  support  the 
school  would  be  most  socializing  and  humanizing  both  for 
rich  and  poor.  The  children  of  the  wealthy  would  be 
trained  to  give,  not  for  charity,  but  for  the  carrying  out  of 
schemes  in  which  they  are  interested,  and  in  which  they 
have  succeeded  in  interesting  others.  The  children  of  the 
poor  would  not  only  learn  to  respect,  but  to  appreciate  and 
know,  the  stored  human  value  of  wealth,  nor  would  they 
ever  be  overloaded  with  things  which  they  would  neither 
understand  nor  appreciate,  since  nothing  would  develop 
further  than  their  desires  and  organized  plans  could  carry 
them.  With  such  conditions  in  the  social  embryo,  the 
adult  society  which  grows  from  it  is  not  likely  to  show  the 
extremes  of  material  wealth  and  poverty  which  it  unfortu- 
nately reveals  to-day.  Self-organization  would  take  the 
place  of  coercion,  and  property  might  be  seen  to  be  what 
it  essentially  is,  —  a  social  product  and  a  social  good. 
[259] 


CHAPTER  XI 

FINE  ART 

Drawing  and,  in  a  growing  number  of  cases,  painting  and 
modeling  are  now  fully  recognized  on  the  ordinary  school 
programme.  What  can  best  be  done  with  them  is  still, 
however,  a  subject  of  debate.  Too  often  they  have  been 
regarded  as  standing  alone  and  affording  a  kind  of  relaxa- 
tion to  the  more  strenuous  work  of  the  school ;  and  too 
often  they  have  been  handed  over  to  outside  teachers,  or 
even  to  those  who  were  not  teachers  at  all.  At  one  period 
in  our  history,  courses  in  drawing  and  "drawing  books" 
were  practically  dictated  by  Kensington.  Amiable  artists, 
inspired  doubtless  by  ambition  for  art  rather  than  for  the 
development  of  pupils,  consented  to  arrange  in  so-called 
logical  form  a  series  of  exercises  from  straight  lines  up  to 
historical  designs  or  complicated  perspectives,  for  the  small 
consideration  of  the  royalty  on  the  books. 

The  effect  on  the  children  was  quite  disastrous.  An 
experience  told  by  a  lady  of  natural  artistic  taste,  but  now 
entirely  unable  to  draw,  will  illustrate  what  Herod  was 
doing  among  the  innocents  some  twenty  years  ago.  When 
a  little  girl  this  lady  was  provided,  along  with  the  rest  of 
the  class,  with  the  usual  drawing  book :  first  page,  verti- 
cal lines ;  second  page,  horizontal ;  third,  oblique ;  fourth, 
simple  combinations,  leading  up  through  upright  oblongs 
to  a  gravestone,  with  little  marks  for  grass  around  the  base. 
[260] 


FINE  ART 

"  How  I  worked  and  slaved  for  weeks  with  pencil  and 
rubber,"  said  she,  "to  get  on  to  that  gravestone,  the  one 
alluring  object  within  my  scope." 

Since  those  days  drawing  at  least  has  been  "correlated."  1 
This  was  the  introduction,  and  the  acquaintanceship  has 
been  ripening  ever  since,  until  now  there  are  few  good 
schools  that  do  not  use  drawing  in  more  or  less  intimate 
connection  with  many  other  subjects.  It  soon  began  to  be 
seen  that  one  could  draw  in  color,  or  even  use  color  with- 
out much  drawing.  It  became  plain  that  mere  line  was  an 
abstract,  and  that  if  crayon  or  brush  were  available,  the 
child's  imagination,  which  deals  earliest  with  masses  and 
wholes  of  things,  was  capable  of  expressing  itself  with  in- 
telligence, rapidity,  and  force.  But  drawing  in  clay  is  also 
possible,  and  plastic  work  in  this  medium,  simpler  and  more 
fundamental  than  either  line  drawing  or  color,  was  soon 
added.  Kilns  were  established  to  burn  and  glaze  the  toy 
dishes,  pottery,  and  figurines,  which  the  children  delighted 
to  make.  The  subject  as  a  whole  has  been  striking  its 
roots  not  only  into  other  subjects,  but  back  through  the 
minor  arts  and  crafts  into  life  itself. 

A  great  part  of  this  change  was  stimulated  by  the  in- 
terest in  child  study.  The  work  of  Earl  Barnes,  Herman 
Lukens,  and  others  on  the  spontaneous  drawings  of  children 
revealed  the  imaginative  and  constructive  features  of  such 
drawings,  and  showed  that  they  were  in  reality  ideographs 
rather  than  attempts  at  objective  characterization.  It  was 
found  that  the  young  child  drew  much  more  what  he 

1  The  work  of  Dr.  J.  P.  Haney  in  New  York,  where  art  and  manual 
training  have  been  put  under  one  head,  is  one  of  the  best  examples  in 
America  of  broad  and  liberal  correlation. 
[261] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

thought  than  what  he  saw.  He  would  thus  represent  in 
one  picture  the  four  sides  of  a  house,  or,  like  the  early 
Greeks,  show  a  full  eye  in  a  profile.  It  was  also  observed 
that  he  liked  to  portray  a  succession  of  events  on  the  same 
page,  and,  quite  contrary  to  Leasing' s  ancient  canon  as 
expounded  in  the  "  Laocoon,"  was  accustomed  to  represent 
the  time  element  and  turn  his  drawings  into  a  kind  of  drama. 

Another  reason  for  the  change  was,  doubtless,  the  devel- 
opment of  art  itself.  In  this,  both  impressionism  and  the 
increased  interest  in  the  minor  arts  have  played  a  part. 
Impressionism  led  the  teacher  who  understood  it  to  look 
for  the  large  and  environmental  aspects  of  what  was  seen, 
and  to  tolerate  an  emphasis  which  left  out  much.  Such 
treatment  is  indeed  quite  characteristic  of  children's  use  of 
clay,  crayon,  and  color.  Although  lacking  the  profound- 
ness, they  begin  in  the  spirit  of  Rodin  and  Monet,  and 
naturally  omit,  because  they  do  not  see,  what  these  men 
artificially  repress.  The  growing  prominence  of  the  minor 
arts,  with  such  leaders  as  Anning  Bell,  M.  Bailie  Scott, 
Professor  Kolaman  Moser,  and  Peter  Behrens  in  their 
service,  have  shown  the  world  that  a  chair,  a  chain,  or 
an  enameled  comb  may  appeal  to  the  imagination  with  as 
pure  a  note  as  any  form  of  art. 

The  tendency  of  these  changes,  depending  on  a  more 
adequate  conception  of  the  subject  on  the  one  hand  and 
the  nature  of  the  children  on  the  other,  can  be  summed  up 
as  increasing  consciousness  of  the  value  of  expression.  As 
in  other  subjects,  however,  the  semi-military  or  patriarchal 
organization  of  the  school  has  led  teachers  to  regard  art 
expression  as  a  matter  of  the  individual  rather  than  of  the 
group  or  society  of  which  he  is  a  part.  Mere  expression  is 
[262] 


FINE  ART 

thus  often  sought  for  without  its  natural  conditions.  As 
a  result,  such  expression  becomes  vague  and  empty,  loses 
motive,  and  would  die  out  entirely  but  for  the  stimulus  of 
artificial  competition  and  the  teacher's  demands.  One  side 
only  of  the  rights  of  expression  has  been  duly  recognized. 
The  other  side,  however,  is  equally  important ;  for  what 
external  reason,  or  to  whom  is  the  expression  directed,  is  an 
even  more  controlling  element  than  the  ideas  and  emotions 
that  are  supposed  to  surge  within  the  individual  himself. 

The  evils  of  this  lack  of  insight  are  not  so  apparent  in 
the  lower  grades.  The  reason  is  that  the  social  reference 
is  really  present,  although  partly  concealed.  As  already 
indicated,  children  make  dramas  of  their  drawings.  Their 
figures  are  practically  dolls,  and  are  personified  for  the  pur- 
pose of  action.  These  constructions  help  them  to  imagine 
society,  and  this  is  the  purpose  for  which  they  are  made. 
Such  play  naturally  runs  into  constructive  work  in  paper 
and  cardboard,  which  at  this  stage  may  properly  enough  be 
quite  superficial.  Even  in  this  work,  however,  children  are 
too  much  isolated,  and  therefore  require  to  take  the  same 
"course"  and  repeat  the  same  model.  They  would  natu- 
rally undertake,  if  their  motives  were  recognized,  to  com- 
bine with  each  other  and  divide  their  labor,  in  order  to 
enjoy  a  larger  and  more  complicated  production.  When 
this  is  done  a  transition  is  made  from  the  imagined  society 
of  the  single  player  to  a  real  society  of  his  fellows,  and  this 
reacts  both  on  his  idea  and  on  his  expression  of  it.  He 
must  fit  in  his  idea  and  its  expression  to  the  conceptions 
of  others. 

An  example  of  this  is  seen  in  the  following  case.  A 
number  of  children,  from  eight  to  ten  years  old,  were 
[263] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

accustomed  to  meet  on  Saturdays  and  rainy  days  in  the 
attic  of  the  house  of  one  of  their  number.  Here  they  con- 
tinued from  week  to  week  a  play  based  on  their  reading  of 
Sunday-school  books  and  other  sources  which  had  appealed 
to  them.  One  of  the  tables  in  the  attic  represented  Africa. 
Here  were  sand  and  palm  trees  made  of  grass  and  matches. 
Dolls  were  cut  out  of  paper  and  painted  black.  In  another 
place  were  the  South  Sea  Islands,  with  tattooed  savages 
and  canoes ;  in  still  another,  China.  The  dolls  here  were 
ornately  dressed,  and  tea  and  rice,  obtained  from  the 
mothers,  lent  reality  to  the  scene.  London  was  repre- 
sented, from  which  the  missionaries,  dressed  in  long  black 
coats,  started  on  their  journey  in  paper  ships.  Speeches 
were  made,  followed  by  an  exercise  in  rhythmic  gymnas- 
tics (would  it  not  be  ?),  which  represented  the  long  voyage 
over  the  very  high  and  swelling  waves  to  the  benighted 
shores  of  the  South  Sea  Islands.  Sermons  were  delivered 
to  the  natives,  but  .to  no  purpose ;  the  missionaries  were 
duly  killed  and  eaten  up.  During  the  development  of  this 
play  they  "  bothered  the  life  out "  of  their  parents  to  find 
out  more  about  Africa  and  such  places,  but  never  thought 
of  asking  their  teacher,  who  at  this  time  was  drilling  them 
on  the  boundaries  of  the  states  and  their  capitals.  But  this 
was  twenty  years  ago. 

This  parable  of  the  attic  has  many  applications,  but  one 
is  evident  here,  namely,  that  concerned  with  the  draw- 
ing and  painting  involved,  which,  indeed,  took  most  of  the 
time  in  actual  preparation  for  the  production.  Now  sup- 
pose a  teacher  should  suddenly  have  been  transported  to 
this  attic,  full  of  ambition  to  educate  the  mind  and  soul. 
Would  he  have  rapped  for  order,  put  the  children  in 
[264] 


FINE  ART 

checkerboard  rows,  and  directed  them  what  to  do  ?  Would 
he  not  have  shown  wisdom  if  he  had  first  made  sure  of 
what  was  actually  being  done  ?  If  his  knowledge  had  been 
of  the  right  kind,  he  might  have  helped  this  activity  in  such 
a  way  that  the  children  would  have  welcomed  it  heartily. 
Here  are  the  South  Sea  Islanders.  What  beautiful  designs 
they  used  to  tattoo  on  their  bodies,  and  how  strikingly  they 
ornamented  their  canoes !  Chinese  art,  too,  is  shown  in 
both  the  color  and  form  of  these  magnificent  robes.  If  the 
teacher  does  not  happen  to  know  such  things  at  the  moment, 
why  can't  he  go  and  learn  ?  Libraries  and  museums  may 
be  near,  and  the  children  are  already  pretty  well  occupied 
for  the  day.  This  case  is  not  so  accidental  as  it  seems. 
Such  things  could  be  done  in  the  schoolroom,  and  with 
plenty  of  notice  given  to  the  teacher  as  to  what  topics  it 
would  be  wise  to  prepare. 

Art  used  in  dramatizing  doubtless  goes  further  than  the 
primary  grades.  Even  in  adult  life  the  connection  is  strong 
and  vital.  A  large  part  of  our  highest  art,  our  best  paint- 
ing and  illustrating,  to  say  nothing  of  plastic  work,  scene 
painting,  costuming,  and  lesser  forms,  draws  sustenance 
from  the  stage.  In  Greek  times  the  drama  and  sculpture 
were  religious  services  in  their  own  right,  while  painting 
was  only  accessory.  But  to-day  painting  must  rise  to  a 
direct  social  value  for  itself.  Like  music  it  must  deliver 
its  own  message.  As  an  independent  form  of  expression 
it  must  appeal  immediately  to  the  perceptions  of  those  to 
whom  it  is  addressed.  The  painter  lends  his  eyes,  and  it  is 
quite  as  important  that  the  borrowers  appreciate  the  favor 
and  know  how  to  use  it,  as  that  the  eyes  of  the  painter 
should  be  trained  and  developed  for  this  service. 
[265] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

It  is  in  the  lower  grades,  as  already  indicated,  that  the 
present  ideas  of  teaching  art  succeed  the  best ;  that  is,  so 
long  as  children  are  content  to  mess  around  with  a  little 
drama  in  the  background  of  their  minds,  drawing  and  paint- 
ing appeal  to  them  most.  In  the  middle  and  upper  grades, 
just  when  they  should  begin  to  do  something  more  impor- 
tant, children  seem  to  lose  interest  in  what  they  are  asked 
to  do,  and  too  few  of  them  would  continue  their  work  if  it 
were  not  for  the  teacher's  control.  This  is  a  fact  which  is 
generally  recognized.  The  cause  of  it  is  not  so  clearly  seen. 
It  does  not  seem  likely  that  this  falling  off  will  be  wholly 
remedied  by  making  drawing  more  dependent  on  the  arts 
and  crafts.  There  is  a  real  and  most  important  value  in 
art  work  as  an  independent  culture,  and  this  is  one,  more- 
over, which  controls  all  other  aesthetic  expression  appealing 
to  the  eye.  Teaching  ought  not  to  decline  upon  a  lower 
plane  of  success,  however  real,  if  it  is  possible  to  overcome 
the  difficulties  of  the  more  arduous  task. 

Are  these  difficulties  not  largely  due  to  an  ignoring  of 
the  social  aspects  of  art  and  a  failure  to  find  a  natural  social 
environment  which  the  child  artist  of  the  middle  and  upper 
grades  can  appeal  to,  and  whose  admiration  and  love  he  can 
effectively  arouse  ?  An  adult  artist  aims  to  cause  something 
in  the  minds  of  those  who  see  his  pictures.  The  same  feel- 
ing of  being  a  social  cause  to  the  fullest  extent  of  his  power 
must  also  be  permitted  to  the  child. 

At  present  the  social  environment  of  the  child  artist  of 
the  middle  and  upper  grades  is  too  largely  adult.  Even 
when  his  productions  are  exhibited  to  the  class  it  is  usually 
done  with  the  purpose  of  getting  from  them  the  kind  of 
criticism  the  teacher  approves  of.  The  practice  is  simply  a 
[266] 


FINE  ART 

"method"  in  the  teacher's  armory.  Left  to  himself,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  artist  would  care  to  exhibit.  Since 
others  are  producing  the  same  idea,  the  result  is  one  of 
competitive  effort  rather  than  of  individual  cooperation  and 
division  of  labor. 

But  it  is  not  the  school  alone  that  makes  the  child  indif- 
ferent to  art  at  this  age.  Since  he  is  not  protected  by  a 
natural  child  environment  for  whom  he  can  produce,  the 
adult  idea  of  art,  as  it  exists  in  the  world  at  large,  begins 
to  impinge  upon  him  too  soon.  He  suddenly  wakes  up  to 
the  feeling  that,  judged  by  adult  standards,  he  is  not  able 
to  draw.  His  early  attempts  look  crude  and  foolish.  ,  He 
adopts  the  genius  theory  and  excuses  himself  from  all  fur- 
ther attempts.  The  art  infant  has  been  prematurely  born, 
and  naturally  dies.  The  wrappings  and  membranes  of  a  child 
world,  that  should  have  protected  it  and  nourished  it,  have 
been  allowed  to  become  thin,  or  are  even  torn  off  unwit- 
tingly by  the  adult-made  course  of  study  and  the  teacher. 

Few  fully  developed  adult  artists  can  look  back  at  the 
productions  of  their  adolescent  years  without  feeling  'that, 
owing  to  the  force  of  illusion,  they  have  been  mercifully 
preserved.  If  they  had  known  at  the  time  more  of  what 
art  ought  to  be,  it  would  have  killed  rather  than  stimulated 
their  artistic  growth.  Hence  it  happens  that  many  artists 
come  from  the  country  or  from  regions  where  in  their  early 
years  they  heard  and  saw  but  little  of  art.  The  same  is  true 
of  races.  The  na'fve  beginnings  of  Greek  art  would  doubt- 
less have  withered  away  if  they  had  been  confronted  with 
the  present  development  of,  let  us  say,  the  art  of  Japan.  To- 
day it  is  a  question  whether  Japanese  art,  while  giving  much 
to  our  own,  will  not  find  itself  arrested  by  the  contact. 
[267] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Undeveloped  races  of  adults  cannot  well  be  protected 
from  other  races  of  adults,  but  nature  has  provided  other- 
wise for  children.  Just  as  they  are  protected  biologically 
from  sexual  strain,  and,  except  where  great  poverty  inter- 
feres, from  economic  strain,  so  should  they  be  protected 
from  every  form  of  social  strain.  Such  protection  permits 
growth  and  prepares  for  the  proper  sexual,  economic,  and 
other  social  functions  of  maturity.  This  does  not  mean  ab- 
solute isolation  from  the  adult  world.  The  forces  of  growth 
gradually  remove  the  relative  isolation  of  the  beginning, 
but  no  step  is  naturally  taken  until  there  is  inner  power 
sufficient  to  cope  with  the  external  conditions.  The  natural 
means  for  this  protection,  as  well  as  for  its  gradual  removal, 
is  self-organized  interaction  and  cooperation  among  the 
children  themselves.  The  teacher's  function  should  be  to 
further  this  activity  both  on  its  protective  and  its  disrupt- 
ive side. 

When  this  attitude  is  taken,  and  the  children's  own  plans 
for  their  artistic  productions  are  allowed  to  lead,  invention 
and  individuality  appear  at  once.  On  the  other  hand,  just 
because  there  are  others  to  please  as  well  as  the  teacher, 
the  teacher  himself  is  able  to  give  more  fearless  criticism 
than  when  his  praise  or  blame  determines  everything.  The 
rate  of  progress  is  more  rapid,  and  the  children,  being  con- 
scious of  a  background  of  social  admiration  and  approval, 
do  not  adopt  a  bias/  attitude  towards  adult  art,  but  stretch 
out  towards  it  and  strive  to  understand  it,  in  order  to  use 
what  they  can  for  their  own  productions.  They  are  being 
educated  in  effectiveness  as  well  as  in  execution. 

An  example  of  this  kind  of  work,  produced  towards  the 
end  of  the  year  by  a  group  of  third-grade  children,  may 
[268] 


FINE  ART 

serve  as  an  illustration.  A  "  Spring  Book "  group  was 
formed  by  four  or  five  girls.  Each  wished  to  make  a  book 
of  paintings  suggested  by  the  spring,  which  was  just  begin- 
ning. They  decided  to  confine  themselves  to  flowers,  and 
to  paint  one  on  each  page.  One  of  these  books,  which  I 
possess,  contains  ten  flowers  painted  from  specimens  that 
had  been  collected  by  the  members  of  the  group.  They 
painted  together  and  admired  each  other's  work,  and  were 
glad  to  have  it  seen  by  others,  but  they  made  no  special 
attempt  to  interest  the  rest  of  the  class,  who  were  occupied 
with  other  things. 

Another  illustration  from  the  sixth  grade  of  the  Wells 
School,  Boston,  in  which  the  children  drew  pictures  for 
several  days  in  order  to  get  the  best  arrangement  for  a 
series  of  tableaux  which  they  were  preparing,  shows  some 
interest  in  art  for  its  own  sake  as  well  as  for  its  service  in 
other  aims. 

Let  us  glance  now  for  a  moment  at  the  matter  which  is 
expressed,  —  the  thought  or  feeling  which  is  passed  from 
one  to  the  other,  —  and  we  shall  see  that  here  also  the 
social  point  of  view  is  amply  justified.  The  two  cases  given 
above  express  a  content  ordinarily  accepted  as  beautiful, 
passing  from  an  emphasis  in  color  and  form  in  the  one  case 
to  action  and  dramatic  quality  in  the  other.  Certain  children 
are,  without  doubt,  capable  of  understanding  some  features 
of  the  beautiful  as  it  is  ordinarily  understood,  but  it  is  often 
overlooked  that  most  children  are  still  more  impressed  by 
the  grotesque  and  the  comic.  In  their  natural  expressions, 
however,  and  apart  from  adult  decadent  influences,  some- 
times exemplified  in  the  Sunday  papers,  these  are  as  legiti- 
mate forms  of  the  beautiful  as  any  other.  The  grotesque, 
[269] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

especially,  as  distinguished  from  the  comic,  which  is  simply 
a  more  superficial  form  of  the  same  feeling,  is  both  deep 
and  penetrating.  As  Ruskin  pointed  out,  the  whole  of 
Gothic  art  originated  in  the  grotesque.  The  dragon  of 
China  and  Japan  is  a  motive  which,  however  decorative, 
always  retains  its  value  as  a  grotesque.  If  it  is  flattered 
so  as  to  lose  its  touch  of  the  unnatural  and  weird,  it  also 
loses  its  hold  upon  the  imagination,  and  we  feel  that  its 
place  would  be  better  filled  by  a  flower  or  a  bird. 

The  grotesque  originated  in  fear,  and  offers  a  means  for 
its  radiation  and  control.  An  example  of  the  operation  of 
these  forces  may  be  found  in  the  quaint  carvings  decorat- 
ing the  old  Gothic  cathedrals.  When  Christianity  entered 
Europe  it  represented  a  higher  love  and  reverence  than  the 
European  nations  had  previously  known.  The  old  gods 
were,  however,  only  slowly  displaced.  These  had  obtained 
a  deep  hold  on  the  emotions  and  the  imaginations  of  the 
people.  Even  where  genuine  convictions  were  established 
as  to  the  greater  nobility,  tenderness,  intellectual  consist- 
ency, and  social  power  of  Christianity,  the  old  gods  were 
still  to  be  reckoned  with.  They  had  always  been  gods  of 
fear,  although  before  the  advent  of  the  new  religion  they 
had  also  shown  their  protective  qualities.  This  protection 
had  now  been  repudiated,  profitably  on  the  whole,  but  not 
without  the  possibility  of  reprisals.  As  a  result,  an  under- 
ground cult  of  the  old  gods  was  still  continued.  They  were 
turned  into  fairies,  sprites,  gnomes,  dwarfs,  satyrs,  devils, 
powerless  under  the  sign  of  the  cross,  or  at  Christmas  time, 
but  still  capable  of  doing  a  great  deal  of  harm.  In  many 
parts  of  Europe,  in  Ireland  for  example,  a  serious  view  of 
these  agencies  still  exists. 

[270] 


FINE  ART 

Whether  from  an  intellectual  plan,  or,  as  is  more  likely, 
simply  as  a  result  of  the  logic  of  the  emotions,  Christianity 
showed  its  wonderful  socializing  force  by  taking  hold  of 
the  more  hideous  forms  and  turning  them  into  gargoyles 
and  other  grotesques,  and  making  them  of  service  both  in 
the  material  building  of  the  church  and  in  the  spiritual  puri- 
fication of  its  members.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  these 
figures  are  to  be  found  principally,  if  not  always,  on  the 
outside  of  churches.  They  seem  to  have  been  made  as  hide- 
ous as  possible,  but  still  subject  to  law,  doing  some  task, 
never  the  most  honorable,  their  faces  usually  downwards, 
not  forming  finials,  and  finally,  as  another  expression  of 
tame  submission,  considerably  conventionalized  in  design. 

The  effect  of  this  upon  the  beholder  is  easy  to  imagine. 
At  first  startled  with  the  fearsome  figure,  the  associa- 
tions representing  his  imagination  of,  and  half  belief  in,  the 
old  gods  thoroughly  aroused,  the  next  moment  he  realizes 
where  he  is.  The  immense  pile  of  the  cathedral,  repre- 
senting his  new  love  and  reverence,  rises  powerfully  before 
him.  He  is  saved  from  his  fears,  and  if  they  occur  again 
at  a  distance  from  the  place  of  sanctity  and  salvation,  he  is 
very  likely  to  remember  the  experience  he  has  had.  He 
has  been  provided  as  in  a  drama  with  the  reconcilement  of 
a  fifth  act. 

If  the  fear  has  been  deep,  his  feeling  becomes  one  of 
relief  and  peace,  characteristic  of  the  real  grotesque.  If, 
however,  the  fear  aroused  is  somewhat  slighter,  a  sense 
of  comic  humor  is  awakened  and  he  may  smile  or  laugh, 
especially  if  he  finds  himself  with  companions  whose  pres- 
ence both  weakens  his  fears  and  strengthens  his  assurance 
of  sympathy.  This  latter  attitude  is  probably  the  only  one 
[271] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

which  men  of  the  present  generation  are  capable  of  feeling, 
and  even  our  sense  of  the  comic  in  these  figures  is  not 
strong  without  some  realization  of  the  historic  past  in 
which  they  are  placed. 

The  grotesque  is,  on  the  whole,  an  embryonic  form  of 
art,  appearing  in  races  at  the  beginning  of  civilization.  It 
expresses  strong  and  primitive  feelings,  and  sometimes  the 
deepest  convictions.  It  may  be  executed  with  the  simplest 
means,  and  although  capable  of  high  technique,  is  not  sub- 
merged by  the  lack  of  it.  It  is  a  combination  of  similar 
elements  that  makes  children's  drawings  also  naturally 
grotesque,  although  the  particular  themes  dealt  with  are 
not  identical  with  those  of  primitive  adults.  Unfortunately 
the  usual  courses  of  study  made  by  adults  tend  to  kill  out 
this  form  of  childish  expression  by  insisting  on  a  content 
of  thought  and  feeling  concerned  with  the  beautiful  as 
ordinarily  and  too  narrowly  understood. 

Some  years  ago  the  present  writer  made  an  attempt  to 
get  back  of  the  usual  course  of  study  and  see  whether 
children  had  any  fears  which  they  could  naturally  express 
by  means  of  art  in  school.  After  being  started  by  the 
teacher,  who  told  what  he  used  to  be  afraid  of,  the  chil- 
dren were  ready  enough  to  describe  what  troubled  them. 
Doing  this  to  their  comrades  in  broad  daylight,  with  laugh- 
ter and  sympathy,  was  itself,  although  a  little  exciting,  an 
experience  which  gave  courage,  confidence,  and  consolation. 
As  Aristotle  said,  we  make  war  in  order  to  have  peace, 
and  have  fear  in  order  to  love.  Later  on,  the  teacher  asked 
those  who  remembered  things  they  were  afraid  of,  which 
could  not  well  be  described  in  words,  to  draw  or  paint 
them.  This  was  done  gladly,  and  the  children  showed 
[272] 


FINE  ART 

them  to  each  other,  often  with  great  humor  and  much 
laughter.  The  drawings  made  from  the  second  to  the 
eighth  grades  represented  snakes,  ghosts,  burning  houses, 
runaways,  horses,  elephants,  bears,  murders,  pursuits,  bur- 
glars, dark  rooms,  falling  from  cliffs  and  high  buildings, 
and  horrible  things  which  the  artist  saw  but  could  not 
name.  There  was  no  doubt  of  the  reality  of  the  experi- 
ence, but  the  most  interesting  feature  of  the  experiment 
was  the  vigor  of  the  artistic  treatment.  Economy  of  effort 
was  marked  throughout.  Everything  was  done  with  "two 
dots  and  a  dash,"  as  modern  art  requires. 

A  word  may  be  said  in  conclusion  as  to  the  development 
of  art  and  its  social  significance  in  the  higher  grades  and 
in  the  life  of  the  ordinary  citizen.  In  order  that  the  indi- 
vidual be  trained  to  the  appreciation  of  the  highest  adult 
art,  it  is  of  course  necessary  that  he  rise  beyond  the  point 
of  view  of  the  grotesque  or  comic  and  enter  into  the  under- 
standing and  enjoyment  of  the  beautiful  as  such,  or  in  its 
finer  and  more  restricted  sense.  The  age  at  which  this 
begins  to  be  possible  is  probably  not  before  the  beginning 
of  adolescence.  There  seems  to  be  good  reason  for  believ- 
ing that  art  is  in  reality  a  radiation  of  sexual  emotion  which 
it  serves  at  once  to  stimulate,  to  purify,  and  to  control.  If 
this  is  so,  it  is  in  the  upper  grades  and  in  the  high  school 
that  the  taste  for  the  characteristically  beautiful  ought  to 
make  its  appearance,  and  it  is  beyond  this  period  that  it 
ought  to  produce  its  greatest  effects. 

It  is  quite  apparent,  even  to  ordinary  observation,  that 

the  great  symbols  of  beauty  do  not  appeal  to  little  children. 

They  would  rather  play  in  the  sea  than  gaze  at  it,  rather 

count  the  stars  than  wonder  at  their  majesty.    Children 

[273] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

miss  the  tenderness  of  landscape.  They  see  the  dawn,  but 
not  its  blush.  Their  blood  does  not  sing  with  "  the  color  of 
rain  and  riot  in  the  woods."  The  romantic  and  the  passion- 
ate as  well  as  the  austerely  beautiful,  the  vibration  of  deep 
feeling,  or  the  ecstasy  of  a  quiet  dream  which  stills  emotion 
because  it  rises  out  of  it,  finds  no  response  within  their 
souls.  The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  The  master  passion 
of  love,  which  gives  tone  to  all  these  other  varieties  of 
feeling,  is  not  yet  awakened  within  them. 

Among  the  first  signs  of  a  real  appreciation  of  the  beau- 
tiful is  the  special  interest  that  boys  and  girls  begin  to  take 
in  their  personal  appearance  and  adornment.  This  is  quite 
different  from  the  desire  to  be  merely  clean  or  neat,  which 
may  be  inculcated  at  an  earlier  age  or  even  be  quite  want- 
ing. A  child  may  despise  another  who  is  dirty  and  be  proud 
of  its  own  superior  condition,  but  not  until  it  approaches 
puberty  does  it  use  its  cleanliness  or  other  qualities  for  the 
purpose  of  attracting  and  capturing  the  admiration  of  others 
of  its  own  age,  especially  those  of  the  opposite  sex.  When 
this  time  comes,  mere  neatness  or  cleanliness  is  not  regarded 
as  a  sufficient  means  of  expression.  Something  much  more 
unique  and  individual  is  felt  to  be  necessary  —  something, 
indeed,  which  draws  attention  to  and  enhances  the  phys- 
ical or  psychic  perfection  of  the  individual  or  conceals 
or  disguises  what  is  supposed  to  be  deficient.  A  bright 
ribbon  or  a  necktie,  an  open  laugh  if  the  teeth  be  good, 
smiles  if  a  dimple  shows,  rings  if  the  hands  are  fine,  poses, 
ways  of  walking,  witty  remarks,  fine  phrases,  well-toned 
modulations,  and  all  kinds  of  actions  and  stage  properties 
which  display  or  show  off  personal  charms,  are  in  constant 
use.  It  is  quite  evident  to  any  observer  that  it  is  not  the 
[274] 


FINE  ART 

opinion  or  approval  of  older  people  which  is  sought  for. 
The  effect  that  the  individual  aims  at  is  the  admiration  of 
persons  about  the  same  age  of  the  opposite  sex,  and  the 
defeat  or  outclassing  of  rivals  of  his  own.  This  latter 
motive  in  the  earlier  stages  may  overshadow  the  primary 
one,  and  by  arrest  of  development  become  a  prominent 
feature  throughout  life.  It  is,  however,  based  upon  the  sex- 
ual emotion.  As  the  males  of  the  passerine  birds  arrive 
at  the  nesting  places  days  in  advance  of  the  females,  and 
spend  their  time  in  singing  or  other  rivalry,  so  both  boys 
and  girls  often  prefer  to  separate  for  the  unavowed  and 
partly  unconscious  purpose  of  showing  off,  or  practicing 
and  perfecting  their  powers  without  the  immediate  pres- 
ence of  members  of  the  opposite  sex.  These,  however,  it  is 
safe  to  say,  are  not  far  from  either  their  thoughts  or  their 
feelings. 

The  result  of  this  courting  play,  it  will  readily  be  seen, 
is  to  produce  a  sharper  appreciation  of  certain  rather  crude 
but  important  and  fundamental  manifestations  of  the  beau- 
tiful. This  appreciation  is  not  merely  passive,  but  primarily 
creative.  To  decorate  one's  self  properly  and  to  display  one's 
charms  and  powers  is  a  work  of  art.  Until  the  person  cre- 
ates for  himself,  he  does  not  well  understand  the  creation 
of  others.  Just  as  the  grotesque  is  a  radiation  of  childish 
fear,  so  this  art  of  personal  display  is  a  radiation  of  love. 

It  is  quite  evident  that  at  this  stage  a  higher  form  of  art 
—  landscape,  for  example  —  would  be  wasted  on  the  youth. 
Not  until  his  longings  are  more  mature  does  he  care  for 
the  moonlight  night,  in  which  he  may  wander,  lovelorn,  or 
happy  with  his  sweetheart,  or  in  which  his  thoughts  may 
wander  with  equal  mystery  and  much  the  same  background 
[275] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

of  emotion.  The  lonely  sea,  the  majestic  mountain,  the 
woods  and  fields  are  not  till  later  suitable  symbols  for  his 
feelings ;  nor  do  they  ever  become  so  until  he  finds  in  them 
an  echo  of  the  deepest  sentiments  of  his  life.  Although  at 
this  later  stage  he  may  not  set  down  on  canvas  the  record 
or  analysis  of  his  aesthetic  feeling,  he  really  creates  a  work 
of  art,  and  paints  a  landscape  suffused  with  emotion  in  the 
depths  of  his  soul.  Until  he  does  so  he  can  never  under- 
stand, because  he  cannot  feel  the  works  of  art  produced 
by  others. 

That  children  may  occasionally  look  at  pictures  by  great 
masters  is  no  proof  of  any  adequate  appreciation.  They 
look  at  these  pictures  as  they  look  at  anything  else : 
"There  are  three  cows,"  "Here  is  a  man  and  he  is  chop- 
ping wood,"  "That  is  the  sun;  it  is  going  down."  Some 
information,  perhaps,  may  be  gained,  but  there  is  hardly 
the  slightest  touch  of  aesthetic  feeling.  In  this  they  are 
quite  like  a  great  many  grown-up  people,  and  perhaps  like 
some  of  their  teachers.  The  use  of  cheap  reproductions, 
with  which  our  primary  schools  are  beginning  to  be  filled, 
is  no  indication  that  art  or  a  feeling  for  the  beautiful  is 
thereby  advanced  to  any  considerable  extent. 

From  the  seventh  grade  up,  it  is,  however,  quite  reason- 
able to  expect  that  if  principles  of  decoration  were  taught 
in  a  sufficiently  concrete  manner,  and  as  applied  to  per- 
sonal adornment  and  household  stage  property,  there  would 
be  real  appreciation  on  the  part  of  the  young.  It  is  equally 
reasonable  to  expect  that  there  would  be,  under  these  con- 
ditions, a  real  development  of  their  conceptions  of  art  and 
the  beautiful,  and  one  that  would  lead  them  to  a  higher 
stage,  such  as  is  involved  in  an  understanding  of  painting 
[276] 


FINE  ART 

and  the  related  graphic  and  plastic  arts.  The  principles  of 
form  and  color  apply  to  a  hat  or  a  gown  as  well  as  to  a 
piece  of  colored  canvas  in  a  gold  frame. 

The  social  implications  of  such  a  point  of  departure  are 
quite  obvious.  First,  as  concerns  the  ideas  dealt  with.  A 
study  of  the  different  ways  in  which  human  beings  living 
at  the  present  time  and  in  past  ages  have  satisfied  their 
need  of  adornment  would  lead  to  a  study  of  the  costumes 
of  different  nations  and  an  examination  of  smaller  objects 
of  art,  such  as  rings,  brooches,  pins,  etc.,  and  the  artistic 
processes  which  have  produced  them.  A  study  of  the  fab- 
rics which  people  use  in  clothing  would  be  of  the  great- 
est social  significance.  The  help  of  some  science  or  labora- 
tory work  would  probably  be  appreciated.  How  much 
wool  and  how  much  cotton  is  there  in  a  piece  of  cloth,  is 
an  important  question  for  the  purpose  of  the  best  adorn- 
ment, and  a  knowledge  of  how  to  apply  a  suitable  test 
would  have  excellent  economic  results  in  the  control  of  the 
supply  of  inferior  goods  frequently  offered  in  the  market. 
Such  a  simple  test  as  boiling  in  caustic  potash  is  within  the 
means  of  every  one. 

Secondly,  in  working  out  such  ideas,  cooperative  and 
productive  effort  on  the  part  of  the  students  would  be 
easily  obtained.  As  a  simple  illustration  of  this  I  may  cite 
the  work  of  a  group  in  the  Girls'  English  High  School, 
Boston,  in  a  class  in  literature  under  Miss  Elizabeth  M. 
Richardson.  This  group  made  a  study  of  Elizabethan  man- 
ners and  customs  to  present  to  the  class,  and,  in  order  to 
express  part  of  their  ideas,  dressed  five  dolls  most  charm- 
ingly in  the  costumes  of  the  period.  In  doing  this,  they 
followed  Dion  Clayton  Calthrop's  work  on  the  history  of 
[277] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

English  costume.  Although  the  dressing  of  the  dolls  was 
done  under  the  title  of  English,  it  is  quite  plain  that  it  is 
also  art  work,  and  surely  no  one  will  be  disappointed  to 
find  such  work  so  closely  correlated,  and  capable  of  service 
in  other  fields  (l). 

The  further  education  in  art,  which  should  come  after 
pupils  leave  the  school,  is  at  present  conspicuous  by  its 
absence.  This  is  particularly  true  of  the  arts  which  appeal 
to  the  eye.  The  art  museums  attempt  in  some  places  to 
do  something  for  the  public,  but  for  the  most  part  effect 
practically  nothing,  except  for  the  specialist.  The  higher 
stages  of  art  seem  to  have  moved  almost  entirely  outside  of 
the  range  of  the  people,  who  content  themselves  with  char- 
acterless photographs  of  living  friends,  air-brush  crayon 
portraits  of  dead  ones,  cheap  representations  hung  upon 
the  wall  and  never  looked  at,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vulgar- 
ity and  lack  of  composition  of  the  objects  of  furniture 
which  encumber  and  disfigure  the  ordinary  home.  The 
peasant  life  of  Europe  may  have  been  bitterly  wanting  in 
fundamental  necessities  of  life,  but  it  was  not  so  poverty- 
stricken  and  squalid  in  matters  of  taste. 

The  failure  of  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  is  already  hav- 
ing serious  social  and  economic  results.  It  is  at  the  bottom 
of  a  considerable  part  of  our  industrial  difficulties.  Manu- 
facturers supply  a  demand.  But  when  the  demand  is  undis- 
criminating,  childish,  and  about  as  well  satisfied  with  the 
ugly,  vulgar,  and  merely  costly  as  with  the  truly  beautiful, 
the  supply  begins  to  control  the  demand,  and  manufactur- 
ers, like  glass-bead  traders  among  savages,  are  able  to  dic- 
tate the  situation  and  twist  the  market  more  and  more  to 
suit  themselves.  Trash  is  sold  at  high  prices,  while,  quite 
[278] 


FINE  ART 

often,  better  goods  are  overlooked.  This  reacts  upon  the 
laborers  themselves.  Since  the  demand  is  not  discriminat- 
ing, goods  can  be  produced  by  unintelligent  help,  who  are 
poorly  paid,  massed  in  battalions  under  the  eye  of  a  task- 
master, and  more  interested  in  their  wage  than  in  their  work. 

The  only  way  to  check  this  tendency  is  to  educate  the 
people,  in  a  self -organized  and  cooperative  manner,  to  pro- 
duce the  beautiful  for  themselves.  This  will  not  only  partly 
supply  the  market  and  give  interesting  and  lucrative  occu- 
pations for  dangerously  unoccupied  hours,  but  will  raise 
the  general  standard  of  taste  and  improve  the  production 
of  the  country  as  a  whole.  If  the  art  museum  is  to  help 
effectively  in  this  effort,  it  must  be  turned  into  an  institu- 
tion even  more  thoroughly  social  than  the  excellent  public 
libraries  of  our  towns  and  cities.  It  must  drop  its  sphinx- 
like  attitude  and  bring  itself  down  to  the  actual  lives  of  the 
people.  It  must  answer  their  questions  as  to  the  beautiful 
in  their  homes,  the  clothing  they  wear,  the  houses  they 
would  build  or  rent.  It  must  devote  more  space  to  the 
minor  arts,  and  particularly  to  the  cultivation  of  those  arts 
like  needlework,  lacemaking,  pottery,  carving,  etc.,  which 
the  people  can  pursue  at  home.  It  should  provide  local  ex- 
hibitions, kilns  for  firing  pottery,  and  lectures  for  explain- 
ing the  beauties  of  ancient  and  modern  masterpieces. 

Unless  some  such  effort  is  made,  there  is  danger  not 
only  of  losing  the  sense  of  the  beautiful,  but  of  falling 
behind  as  a  nation  in  the  markets  of  the  world.  Success 
in  husbanding  and  promoting  our  artistic  resources  would, 
on  the  other  hand,  lead  to  a  happier  as  well  as  to  a  pro- 
founder  social  life.  Many  of  our  moral  and  religious  ques- 
tions would  receive  a  better  answer.  Manners  and  customs 
[279] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

would  be  more  refined,  amusements  less  coarse  and  shallow. 
Sanitary  and  hygienic  needs  would  press  more  strongly 
upon  us.  Art  and  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  is  by  no  means 
a  mere  luxury,  but  a  necessity  for  our  most  effective  social 
and  personal  development.  Like  a  crown  of  harmony  be- 
tokening real  command  over  subordinate  powers,  the  angel 
of  life  holds  this  blessing  above  our  heads,  waiting  for  us 
to  recognize  our  birthright  as  a  civilized  nation  and  a  truly 
social  people. 

REFERENCE.    1.  Elizabeth  M.  Richardson,  Social  Education  Quar- 
terly, Vol.  II,  No.  I. 


[280] 


CHAPTER   XII 
THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

The  education  of  the  conscience  means  the  teaching 
of  practical  as  distinguished  from  theoretical  ethics.  Like 
other  teaching  it  implies  learning  on  the  part  of  pupils. 
The  learning,  in  this  case  at  least,  must  be  learning  to  do. 
But  doing  is  already  started  and  in  full  swing  before  learn- 
ing is  possible.  The  problem  of  teaching  (and  of  learning) 
the  best  conduct  must  therefore  begin  with  what  is  going 
on  habitually  or  instinctively,  and  must  attempt  to  develop 
out  of  this  something  better.  The  individual  must  learn  that 
he  is  to  be  held  responsible  for  his  acts,  that  he  must  gradu- 
ally rise  above  instinctive  or  impulsive  conduct,  must  study 
and  criticise  the  effects  of  what  he  does,  and  control  his 
life  to  the  fullest  extent  that  his  intelligence  will  permit. 
He  must  feel  that  either  singly  or  in  combination  with 
others  he  is  a  cause  of  what  happens. 

In  many  and  to  some  extent  in  all  instances  in  life  we 
are  causes  without  realizing  it  at  the  time.  A  great  part  of 
the  tragedy  of  existence  arises  from  this  fact.  We  do 
things  without  knowing  or  being  able  to  know  their  full 
consequences,  and  yet  we  feel  impelled  to  stand  by  these 
acts,  and  to  assume  that  because  they  were  ours  we  are 
responsible  for  their  outcome.  This  is  really  the  essence  of 
courage,  and  life  would  break  down  without  some  such 
attitude.  In  fact,  if  we  attempt  to  eliminate  from  ourselves 
[281] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

all  responsibility  for  consequences  except  those  which  we 
had  fully  foreseen,  there  would  be  very  little  of  us  left. 
Although  it  is  an  assumption,  and  quite  monstrous  from  a 
purely  intellectual  standpoint,  yet  it  is  one  which  all  of  us 
who  are  not  morally  imbecile,  spontaneously  and  naturally 
accept.  And  it  is  only  after  we  have  staked  ourselves  on 
the  issue  that  we  begin  to  bolster  up  our  conviction  by 
appeals  to  reason.  We  say  that  we  accept  this  or  that  re- 
sponsibility because  we  were  the  unwitting  cause,  whereas 
we  really  see  and  admit  our  causal  action  (without  much 
foundation  so  far  as  our  purely  individual  life  is  concerned) 
because  we  have  already  assumed  the  responsibility.  The 
glory  of  such  conduct  does  not  arise  out  of  the  apparent 
premises.  It  comes  rather  from  the  fact  that  in  the  moment 
of  expansion  when  the  individual  accepts  the  action  and 
calls  it  his  own,  he  is  really  then  a  cause,  and  feels  the  joy 
of  being  so,  but,  by  a  kind  of  mirage,  projects  the  event  to 
some  past  period  which  has  at  least  the  convenience  of 
being  easily  objectified.  That  this  is  the  truth  seems  plain 
when  we  consider  that  we  can  never  rest  in  any  portion  of 
the  past.  If  my  action  at  a  previous  time  is  the  cause  of 
what  is  now  happening,  what  was  the  cause  of  that  action 
then  ?  And  so  on,  till,  with  modern  ideas  of  heredity,  we 
are  far  beyond  the  confines  of  the  individual,  or  even  of 
the  human  race. 

It  thus  appears  that  the  "imperatives"  of  which  we  are 
conscious  are  the  result  of  our  own  selection.  They  are 
revealed  to  us  in  the  clash  of  actual  living.  If  we  reject 
them,  we  can  always  find  seemingly  satisfactory  reasons 
for  doing  so.  If  we  admit  them,  we  can  also  make  them 
appear  to  be  reasonable.  In  reality  these  imperatives  are 
[282] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

simply  guides  for  experience.  We  treat  them  as  working 
hypotheses,  which  are  to  be  justified  by  the  verifications 
of  facts  of  conduct  of  which  we  regard  ourselves  as  the 
cause.  We  make  these  hypotheses  come  true  by  the  acts 
which  we  perform. 

But  if  we  select  our  duties,  we  no  sooner  do  so  than  we 
feel  that  all  the  circumstances  of  the  world  are  powerless 
in  the  face  of  them.  We  may  sacrifice  happiness  or  life  to 
maintain  them.  Even  if  we  fail  to  produce  the  facts  they 
call  for,  the  original  selections  still  remain,  each  of  them 
a  monarch,  without  an  empire,  but  not  without  a  crown. 
Nothing  can  shake  them  except  a  flaw  in  the  title,  followed 
by  a  further  and  broader  selection  of  new  duties  involving 
still  greater  assumption  of  responsibility  and  a  more  pro- 
found and  expansive  feeling  of  causality.  Indeed,  we  are 
not  able  to  see  the  flaws  in  the  duties  we  have  already 
selected,  except  in  the  light  of  the  larger  duties  to  which 
they  cede. 

It  is  plain  that  the  child,  as  he  grows  to  maturity,  passes 
through  stages  of  moral  development  in  which  he  arrives  at 
a  gradually  increasing  consciousness  of  the  reality  of  per- 
sonal causation.  At  first  he  is  surrounded  in  the  family  by 
stimuli  to  action  which  affect  him  by  way  of  unconscious 
imitation.  A  large  part  of  this  is  without  the  incitement  of 
words,  and  is  quite  like  what  occurs  in  the  education  of  any 
young  animal.  The  chick  learns  to  peck  partly  through  the 
stimulus  of  seeing  its  mother  do  so.  The  child  runs,  puts 
out  its  hand,  laughs  and  cries  when  others  are  doing  the 
same  thing.  It  is  not  that  he  chooses  to  do  these  things 
—  he  cannot  help  doing  them.  The  stimulus  drives  through 
his  organism  and  sets  him  going.  Later  on,  words  have  a 
[283] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

similar  effect.  By  creating  a  motor  image  composed  of 
activities  already  used,  by  picturing  another,  or  himself  re- 
garded as  another,  as  doing  certain  things,  the  imitative 
action  follows  automatically.  At  any  part  in  this  process, 
however,  the  feeling  of  being  a  cause  may  arise.  He  may 
observe  the  effects  that  are  being  produced,  and  may  either 
experience  an  inward  joy  as  he  sees  the  meaning  of  his 
action,  or  may  arrest  it  as  unsatisfactory. 

While  the  first  fact  about  conscience  is  the  feeling  of 
causation,  the  content  and  direction  of  the  action  and  the 
particular  effects  aimed  at  are  always  the  result  of  social 
environment,  modified  by  the  creative  imagination  of  the 
individual  agent.  If  we  look  at  conscience  functionally  or  in 
action,  it  is  experimental,  pragmatic,  and  a  question  of  the 
sense  of  individual  effectiveness.  If  we  look  at  it  statically, 
either  as  the  ground  or  as  the  imaged  aim  of  the  action,  it 
is  always  a  state  of  society  which  we  have  in  mind.  We 
are  surrounded  and  controlled  by  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses, 
actual  friends  and  neighbors,  opponents  and  enemies,  past 
saviors  and  heroes  of  the  race,  the  future  wife  or  husband, 
the  unborn  child,  or  the  Great  Companion,  God — a  brother- 
hood and  fatherhood  and  childhood  for  whose  sake  and  by 
whose  tragic  or  inspiring  example  we  live  and  act. 

To  develop  an  imaged  assembly  of  persons  in  an  indi- 
vidual is  the  work  of  education.  For  this  the  first  thing 
that  is  necessary  is  actual  primary  contact  with  other  indi- 
viduals. It  is  from  this  contact  as  a  basis  that  we  build  up 
our  images  and  ideals.  But  what  other  individuals  ?  Shall 
we  select  them,  if  possible,  so  that  their  manners  shall  be 
perfect,  their  morals  irreproachable  ?  Shall  we  fill  the  mind 
with  perfect  pictures,  pure  Sir  Galahads  ?  Would  heaven 
[284] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

be  a  good  place  for  the  purpose  of  education  and  develop- 
ment ?  If  moral  training  were  simply  a  matter  of  uncon- 
scious imitation,  there  is  no  doubt  that  such  a  plan  would 
be  the  most  efficacious,  but  when  we  remember  that  it  is 
primarily  a  matter  of  the  feeling  of  being  a  cause,  it  is  plain 
that  something  more  is  requisite.  Some  opportunity,  and 
the  greatest  opportunity  he  is  capable  of  using,  must  be 
found  for  the  individual  to  accomplish  results  in  social 
causation.  Sir  Galahad,  the  flawless  teacher,  or  the  care- 
fully chosen  circle  of  companions,  do  not  call  very  poignantly 
for  assistance.  And  even  if  we  take  them  as  examples,  we 
must  find  some  field  to  carry  these  examples  into  practice. 
If  we  are  to  obtain  an  imaged  assembly  of  persons  that  we 
care  for,  we  must  do  these  persons  some  service.  While 
part  of  this  service  may  not  be  appreciated,  or  may  even  be 
objected  to  at  the  time,  it  is  surely  reasonable  to  think  that 
by  far  the  greater  bulk  of  it  should  be  welcomed  and  hon- 
ored. If  we  are  to  do  unto  others  as  we  would  have  them 
do  to  us,  a  return  of  honor,  if  not  of  other  service,  is  as 
unavoidable  as  action  and  reaction  in  the  law  of  gravitation. 

Even  if  we  say  that  our  first  business  is  to  reform  our- 
selves, the  purpose  of  making  ourselves  better  is  narrow, 
unethical,  and  devoid  of  causal  feeling,  if  we  have  not  also 
in  mind  the  service  that  this  improvement  will  be  to  others. 
As  a  matter  of  practical  experience,  it  is  always  for  some 
loved  person's  sake  that  we  hold  ourselves  together,  resist 
temptation,  or  scale  the  heights  of  heaven.  What  would 
they  do,  or  what  would  they  think  of  us  if  we  fell,  is  the 
question  which  fortifies  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  work  upon  ourselves  is  heartless 
work,  if  some  one  else  is  not  helping  us  in  the  effort.  If 
[285] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

some  one  else  does  not  feel  an  interest  in  our  being  better 
and  stronger,  does  not  long  to  have  us  so,  and  does  not 
admire  and  honor  us  for  the  good  that  is  already  in  us  and 
the  service  we  have  already  performed,  there  is  little  like- 
lihood that  we  shall  ever  improve.  It  is  isolation  that 
is  hell. 

It  is  thus  not  the  receptive  attitude,  but  the  active 
outstreaming  of  initiative  and  leadership,  which,  as  distin- 
guished from  its  basis  in  social  habit  and  custom,  is  the 
starting  point  of  all  personal  morality.  We  give  in  this 
sphere  before  we  can  get.  To  give  is  not  only  more  blessed, 
but  more  necessary  than  to  receive.  We  do  first  and  under- 
stand afterwards,  and  by  virtue  of  the  return  that  comes 
to  us  from  those  we  serve.  This  return  of  honor,  more- 
over, is  a  part  and  measure  of  the  action,  whether  it  be 
honor  received  from  those  above  us,  from  those  on  a  simi- 
lar level,  or  from  those  below  us. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  easiest  to  strive  for.  Humanity 
is  almost  instinctively  ready  to  oblige,  to  serve,  and  to  re- 
ceive honor  from  those  really  felt  to  be  on  a  higher  level. 
It  is  more  difficult  to  deserve  and  receive  honor,  in  the 
sense  of  feeling  its  value,  from  those  on  the  same  level  or 
those  below  us.  But  it  is  at  the  same  time  more  necessary 
for  democracy  and  for  the  school.  When  those  who  are 
looked  up  to  by  others  receive  a  service  without  returning 
honor  and  admiration,  or  give  a  service  and  feel  too  indiffer- 
ent or  unwilling  to  receive  and  actually  treasure  its  natural 
return,  they  are  meanly  and  proudly  attempting  a  fraud  upon 
human  nature.  If  the  good  Samaritan  cared  nothing  for  the 
feelings  that  would  be  awakened  in  the  traveler  to  Jericho, 
but  was  only  serving  God,  he  missed  the  point. 
[286] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

The  feeling  of  being  a  cause  is  weakened  and  diminished, 
if  it  does  not  extend  to  the  back  effects  of  the  causal  action 
upon  self  as  well  as  to  its  direct  effect  upon  others.  The 
chain  of  social  causation  may  be  broken  at  this  link  as  well 
as  at  another.  As  in  simple  muscular  action,  the  muscular 
sense  itself  is  as  necessary  to  guide  the  finger  or  the  limb 
as  its  contact  with  an  external  object.  So  in  the  higher 
ranges  of  action,  the  feeling  of  honor,  the  morally  kinaes- 
thetic  element,  reveals  itself  as  necessary  to  the  best  ad- 
justment and  the  most  effective  conduct.  And  yet  there 
seems  to  be  a  class  of  moral  paralytics  whose  defect  is  not 
so  much  that  they  do  what  is  overtly  wrong,  as  that  they 
are  insensitive  to  the  joy  of  honor  feeling,  and  thereby 
impair  their  own  power  of  social  contact.  They  attempt 
austerely  and  ascetically  to  insulate  themselves,  and  conse- 
quently fail  to  get  the  stimulating  impression  on  their  own 
hearts  of  the  true  personality  of  others.  Honor  becomes  in 
their  minds  something  purely  subjective,  for  which  they  are 
indebted  to  no  one.  They  sometimes  say  that  they  act 
from  principle,  and  not  for  any  return.  But  the  content  of 
this  principle  is  an  idea  of  their  own,  a  fragment  of  self, 
which  is  not  simply  a  working  hypothesis,  but  is  regarded, 
as  well  as  the  principle,  as  a  priori  and  eternal.  As  George 
Meredith  is  never  tired  of  showing  in  his  novels,  they  love 
their  idea  of  Love  better  than  they  love  their  lovers. 

But  it  is  not  only  cold  egoism  which  tends  to  weaken 
the  range  and  depth  of  moral  causation.  Our  imaged  as- 
sembly of  persons  suffers  as  much  from  the  refusal  to  give 
honor  as  the  inability  to  receive  it.  When  we  compare  the 
image  of  self  with  that  of  another,  and  find  a  discrepancy 
against  us,  there  are  two  ways  of  leveling  up.  We  may 
[287] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

admit  the  conduct  or  virtue  that  we  have  observed.  To  do 
this  is  to  enlarge  ourselves.  Or  we  may,  on  the  other  hand, 
attempt  to  reduce  the  discrepancy  by  minimizing  the  value 
of  what  we  observe.  In  this  case  we  contract  our  image  of 
the  other,  and  really  diminish  our  own  resources  and  our- 
selves. This  is  envy,  and  must  be  distinguished  from  the 
just  and  discriminating  criticism  which  aims  to  give  the 
truth  without  flattery  on  the  one  hand  or  depreciation  on 
the  other. 

Condemnation  or  blame  is  another  important  phase  of 
the  psychology  of  honor.  It  cannot  be  said  that  justifiable 
blame  is  useless  in  society ;  but  it  is  probably,  to  a  large 
extent,  a  reversion  to  the  instincts  of  the  tribe.  Here  the 
criminal  was  made  the  scapegoat,  and  the  rest  of  the  tribe 
were  educated  in  solidarity  and  protected  against  the  future 
commission  of  the  particular  crime  by  the  powerful  social 
awakening  of  horror  which  its  condemnation  in  the  person 
of  the  criminal  involved.  To  reclaim  the  criminal  himself 
was  never  a  part  of  the  intention. 

To-day,  with  the  development  of  a  higher,  more  individu- 
alized social  solidarity,  the  instinct  to  condemn,  in  slighter 
offenses  at  least,  is  nearly  always  accompanied  or  quickly 
followed  by  a  feeling  of  the  individual  worth  of  the  offender. 
But  we  often  try  to  drive  the  two  opposite  tendencies  in 
the  same  direction.  We  say  we  blame  for  the  good  of  the 
person  blamed.  Does  this  ever  go  farther  than  words  ?  Is 
there  not  always  a  subtle  loading  off  of  our  own  responsi- 
bility ?  Not  until  we  feel  our  own  human  solidarity  suffi- 
ciently to  be  able  to  blame  ourselves  at  the  same  time  and 
for  the  same  offense,  although  we  may  not  have  committed 
it  in  detail,  do  we  win  the  right  to  issue  blame  that  is  truly 
[288] 


THE  EDUCATION   OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

cooperative.  Judge  not  unless  we  are  also  judged.  It  is 
not  so  much  a  question  of  the  mote  in  the  eye  of  one,  and 
a  different  kind  of  beam  in  that  of  the  other ;  the  beam  is 
quite  likely  to  be  a  piece  of  the  same  stuff  as  the  mote.  It 
may  be,  however,  that  even  yet  some  people  need  the  privi- 
lege of  being  allowed  to  blame  others  in  order  to  protect 
and  fortify  themselves.  The  fairly  general  use  of  the  term 
"force  of  public  opinion,"  to  cover  cases  of  repression 
rather  than  of  encouragement,  would  seem  to  indicate  such 
a  need. 

The  service  that  is  appreciated  by  others  is  quite  fre- 
quently of  an  apparently  insignificant  character,  but  if  it 
is  timely,  based  on  a  true  image  of  the  other  person,  and 
delicately  adjusted  to  his  actual  needs,  it  may  go  further 
in  social  causation  than  more  heroic  efforts.  In  real  causa- 
tion nothing  is  stereotyped  and  nothing  occurs  again.  The 
situation  calling  for  our  activity  is  always  a  new  one,  in- 
volving different  persons  and  untried  possibilities.  Our  idea 
of  how  to  act  must  therefore  always  be  an  hypothesis,  and 
our  action  an  experiment.  If  a  cup  of  cold  water  is  the 
thing  to-day,  it  will  be  something  else  to-morrow.  When 
we  become  mere  repeaters,  we  have  fallen  below  the  level 
of  free  organization  and  effective  causality  which  is  our 
privilege  and  joy.  We  can  never  adapt  our  services  effect- 
ively to  another  by  merely  imitating  good  examples  or  fol- 
lowing excellent  prescriptions.  Originality  and  invention, 
based  on  a  clear  image  of  the  actual  personality  of  the 
other,  is  a  necessity  of  successful  moral  conduct. 

When  we  serve  another  we  build  up  our  own  conscience 
because  we  improve  our  understanding  of  the  other,  and  at 
the  same  time  we  increase  our  own  causality  by  liberating 
[289] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

causal  forces  in  another  individual.  Every  moral  act  either 
removes  hindrances  to  accomplishment  or  directly  liber- 
ates energy  in  some  one  else.  To  enable  some  other  person 
to  feel  that  he  is  a  greater  and  more  effective  cause  and 
can  better  carry  out  the  aims  and  purposes  that  he  desires, 
is  a  necessary  feature  of  all  service.  Moral  conduct,  as 
already  suggested,  is  concerned  not  only  with  the  heroic 
part  of  life,  but  with  it  all.  The  individuals  to  be  served 
do  not  usually  need  to  be  heroes,  and  do  not  often  desire 
to  be  ;  but  there  is  nearly  always  some  point  at  which  they 
wish  to  be  more  effective,  although  it  may  be  nothing  more 
than  to  earn  a  livelihood  or  to  get  a  better  job.  Lyman 
Abbott  goes  so  far  as  to  recommend  that  the  man  who  is 
already  doing  well  in  life  should  hand  over  to  others  as 
much  work  as  he  can,  and  search  for  new  labor  himself. 
Let  him  get  some  one  else  to  tend  the  furnace  or  clear  the 
sidewalk,  while  he  finds  something  more  productive  and 
more  difficult  to  do  for  himself.  Finding  suitable  work  for 
other  people,  planning  that  others  may  plan,  is  particularly 
the  teacher's  art,  and  we  shall  never  be  a  truly  moral  com- 
munity until,  to  this  extent,  we  are  all  teachers.  The  care 
and  the  culture  of  men  is  the  background  of  all  the  com- 
mandments. 

How  simple  the  point  of  application  often  is  may  be 
illustrated  by  a  case  drawn  from  the  school.  A  boy  who 
had  been  dismissed  from  six  different  schools,  one  after  the 
other,  and  received  into  a  seventh,  was  sent  by  the  teacher 
of  his  grade  to  the  child-study  specialist  attached  to  the 
school,  to  see  if  he  could  give  any  advice.  The  boy  was 
reported  as  generally  troublesome  and  disobedient,  and  he 
was,  at  fourteen  years  of  age,  three  years  behind  his  grade. 
[290] 


THE  EDUCATION   OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

Physical  examinations  showed  no  defect  of  sight  or  irregu- 
larity of  hearing.  He  was  a  stout,  ruddy,  apparently  healthy 
boy.  He  was,  however,  several  inches  below  the  normal 
height  for  his  age,  his  arms  were  abnormally  long  and 
of  considerably  uneven  length,  the  skull  was  much  larger 
on  the  left  side  than  on  the  right,  and  the  bones  of  the 
face  were  also  irregular.  These  indications  led  the  special- 
ist to  inquire  through  the  teacher  as  to  heredity,  and  it  was 
found  that  grandfathers  on  both  sides  had  been  epileptics. 
The  father  was  a  hard  drinker  and  very  quarrelsome.  The 
boy  also,  although  generally  good-humored,  was  known  to 
be  violent  when  provoked.  The  specialist  observed  the  boy 
also  in  class,  and  noticed  a  series  of  little  actions,  like  clap- 
ping out  of  time  when  the  class  was  singing,  frequently 
dropping  things  on  the  floor,  stumbling,  etc.,  which  did  not 
seem  to  be  done  out  of  malice,  although  they  were  not 
apologized  for  when  they  occurred.  It  was  from  accidents 
of  this  kind  that  nearly  all  the  trouble  had  arisen. 

At  another  interview  the  specialist  found  that  the  boy  was 
very  anxious  to  be  a  good  baseball  player,  but  that  he  had 
had  little  success  in  the  game.  The  lad  said  he  didn't  know 
what  was  the  matter,  but  he  always  seemed  to  miss  the 
ball  just  as  he  thought  he  was  going  to  catch  it,  and  that 
he  was  little  better  at  the  bat.  At  this  point  an  hypoth- 
esis came  into  the  mind  of  the  specialist.  Said  he,  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  you  are  like  a  horse  that  breaks."  (The 
boy  had  previously  shown  a  large  knowledge  of  race  horses, 
due  to  the  fact  that  his  father  worked  with  them.)  "  What 
do  you  do  with  a  horse  that  breaks  his  trot  ?  Do  you  whip 
him  ? "  The  boy  said  :  "  No  —  not  if  it  is  serious.  We 
generally  put  him  in  the  stable  for  a  few  days  and  take 
[291] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

care  of  him."  The  specialist  replied :  "  I  have  an  idea.  I 
believe  we  can  help  you  both  to  get  on  at  baseball  and  in 
school.  When  you  go  back  to  your  room,  take  some  part 
of  your  body,  say  your  right  hand,  and  place  it  somewhere, 
—  on  your  desk,  in  your  pocket,  or  anywhere  else.  Look  at 
the  clock  and  decide  on  the  length  of  time  you  can  keep 
your  hand  in  that  position  without  moving  it.  But  every 
time  you  '  break,'  put  the  record  down,  and  bring  me  the 
number  of  times  you  have  succeeded  and  the  number  of 
times  you  have  failed.  Of  course,  if  the  teacher  asks  you 
to  do  anything  during  the  period,  that  will  be  understood 
to  be  no  break,  and  meanwhile  we  will  say  nothing  to  the 
teacher  or  anybody  else  about  it." 

"  That's  easy,"  said  the  boy ;  "  I  could  do  that  for  half  an 
hour  at  a  time." 

"Better  not  try  more  than  fifteen  minutes,"  said  the 
specialist. 

The  first  day,  even  at  this  rate,  was  filled  with  failures, 
and  five  minutes  was  tried.  This  he  succeeded  with,  and 
after  two  or  three  days  took  ten  minutes.  He  kept  increas- 
ing the  time  for  about  a  month,  and  thought  himself  that 
it  had  a  good  effect  on  his  steadiness  in  baseball.  At  least, 
he  was  gaining  for  some  reason.  The  teacher,  who  was 
told  nothing  of  the  arrangement  until  some  time  later, 
was  delighted  with  the  improvement  in  the  boy's  conduct. 
"Did  you  give  him  a  talking  to? "  she  asked.  On  the  con- 
trary, as  the  reader  sees,  the  real  secret  was  cooperative 
planning  between  the  boy  and  the  specialist. 

Conscience,  as  the  origin  of  the  word  suggests,  is  a  sort 
of  knowing  together.  Its  law  is  that  of  love  and  honor.  It 
expects  others  to  treat  us  as  they  would  treat  themselves. 
[292] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

It  commands  us  to  do  to  others  as  we  would  have  them  do 
to  us.  This,  as  Henry  D.  Lloyd  expresses  it,  is  the  law  of 
social  gravitation  to  which  every  act  is  forced  to  be  obe- 
dient. Our  conduct  and  our  images  of  conduct  tumble  to 
pieces  like  badly  constructed  buildings  when  we  ignore 
it.  The  law  of  love  in  conduct,  however,  like  the  law  of 
gravitation  in  building,  does  not  actually  invent  the  con- 
structions that  will  survive.  It  only  tests  them  after  they 
have  been  invented.  The  estimate  of  how  others  should 
do  unto  us  varies  with  every  generation  and  every  state  of 
society.  Certain  savages,  for  instance,  would  rather  be 
killed  and  eaten  by  their  relatives  than  be  buried  in  the 
ground  and  perhaps  be  dug  up  afterwards  by  wild  beasts. 
While  the  law  is  constant,  the  acts  governed  by  the  law  are 
as  widely  opposed  as  the  primitive  hut  and  the  New  York 
skyscraper.  Images  of  conduct  different  from  what  is  cus- 
tomary must  therefore  be  entertained.  We  cannot  strangle 
them  in  the  cradle.  They  must  be  developed,  expressed  to 
others,  and  even  acted  out  to  some  extent  before  they  can 
be  judged  either  by  other  people  or  by  the  person  who  has 
originated  them.  If  this  is  not  done,  the  individual  remains 
sterile,  and  even  to  make  mistakes  is  not  so  wasteful  nor 
such  a  disappointment  to  our  fellow-men  as  to  contribute 
nothing.  Indeed,  the  man  who  never  makes  mistakes  is 
not  likely  to  make  anything  else. 

It  is  neverthless  reasonable  that  in  our  experimentation 
with  new  and  possibly  explosive  ideas,  the  greatest  care 
should  be  used.  Discussion  —  the  fullest  freedom  of  speech 
—  is  the  great  invention  by  which  humanity  insures  the 
safest  exploitation  of  new  ideas.  Talking,  as  well  as  other 
forms  of  mere  expression,  is,  of  course,  a  kind  of  action,  but 
[293] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

it  is  specially  useful  because  of  its  economy.  Discussion 
brings  to  light  ideas  of  other  people,  and  necessarily  modi- 
fies them  by  either  strengthening  or  weakening  the  original 
idea.  "To  unpack  the  heart  with  words,"  does  not  always 
delay  action.  It  sometimes  accumulates  and  precipitates  it. 
The  result  depends  in  each  case  upon  the  social  environ- 
ment, and  to  whom  or  for  whom  we  unpack. 

In  ordinary  business  affairs  the  value  of  discussion  is 
regarded  by  every  one  as  of  the  greatest  moment.  A 
large  and  successful  business  firm  of  some  thirty  members, 
known  to  the  present  writer,  is  led  by  a  man  of  extraordinary 
business  genius.  This  man  will  come  to  the  meetings  of 
the  firm  and  talk  for  two  hours,  sometimes  saying  nothing 
that  is  not,  in  the  eyes  of  the  others,  the  most  astounding 
foolishness.  But  occasionally  in  the  middle  of  this  exhibition 
of  fantasy,  he  will  drop  a  hint  or  sketch  a  brilliant  plan 
that  no  one  else  would  have  been  able  to  think  of.  When 
this  is  seized  by  the  others  and  carried  out  in  action,  it  is 
sometimes  worth  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  to  the 
firm.  The  so-called  well-balanced,  conservative  individual, 
proud  of  his  "judgment"  and  relying  narrowly  upon  it,  is 
evidently  an  inadequate  competitor  with  the  man  who  can 
find  friends  who  will  permit,  and  perhaps  wring  from  him, 
the  last  vagary  of  fancy. 

In  the  deeper,  more  personal  business  of  life  the  situation 
is  the  same.  Parents  and  teachers  need  to  offer  opportuni- 
ties for  the  most  complete  confession,  not  so  much  of 
faults  committed,  but  of  plans  and  purposes  for  the  future, 
even  if  these  should  be  but  half  formed,  imperfect,  and 
fanciful.  It  is,  indeed,  those  dreams  and  prospects  just 
beyond  our  reach  which  are  often  the  controlling  factors 
[294] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

of  conduct.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  direct,  advise,  and  im- 
press  children  and  pupils  with  the  right  way  of  acting.  It 
is  a  mistake  to  instill  constantly.  One  must  not  omit  the 
delicate  distillation  necessary  to  extract  the  last  aroma  of 
personal  revelation. 

The  provision  of  such  a  confessional  for  the  experiments 
of  the  future,  free  as  possible  from  past  regrets,  and  full  of 
the  atonement  of  divine  and  human  fellowship,  is  a  work 
not  only  for  the  school  but  also  for  the  church  and  the 
home.  Parents  should  not  only  be  ordinarily  approachable, 
but  in  order  to  be  so  they  should  be  known  to  be  experi- 
mentalists themselves.  Children  should  not  feel  that  they 
know  beforehand  the  cut-and-dried  reaction  of  father  and 
mother  on  any  question  capable  of  different  solutions.  The 
kind  of  friends,  occupations  in  life,  amusements,  and  many 
habits  have  been  chosen  differently  by  very  worthy  people. 
Parents  should  realize  that  their  own  lives,  no  matter  what 
their  achievements,  might  have  been  even  more  successful 
than  they  are,  or,  at  least,  successful  in  a  different  way. 
Every  life  as  a  whole  is  largely  an  experiment,  and  nature 
is  trying  it  over  again  in  the  new  generation.  Indeed  the 
new  conditions  demand  change  of  some  sort.  Moral  insight, 
like  the  manna  in  the  wilderness,  spoils  if  it  is  kept.  Many 
tragedies  in  home  life  would  possibly  be  averted  if  this 
educational  condition  were  realized.  How  many  mothers 
who  agonize  over  wayward  sons  succeeded  in  drawing  from 
them  the  secret,  nascent  thought  which  later  on  controlled 
their  lives  and  led  them  astray  ?  The  boy  is  bound  to 
experiment ;  the  question  is,  Shall  he  experiment  alone  ? 

There  is  no  reason  why  the  church  should  not  be  a  great 
clearing  house  for  moral  and  social  experimentation.  The 
[295] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

Sunday-school  lessons,  let  them  be  learned  never  so  per- 
fectly and  illustrated  by  cases  never  so  apposite  ;  the  moral 
precepts  and  directions  of  the  teacher,  however  forcible  and 
clear ;  the  sermon  of  the  clergyman  and  the  rites  of  the 
church,  all  leave  the  particular  experiment  that  emerges  in 
the  mind  of  the  individual  without  direct  recognition.  To 
say  that  the  application  must  be  left  to  the  individual  con- 
science is  only  partly  true.  The  individual  conscience,  in 
so  far  as  it  is  educated,  is  a  result  of  free,  intimate  contact 
with  other  people.  Such  contact,  far  from  diminishing  the 
feeling  of  causality,  increases  it,  and  both  are  most  fruitful 
and  effective  when  some  actual  scheme  about  to  be  carried 
out  is  the  subject  of  mutual  consideration. 

So  far  as  a  division  of  labor  in  this  mutual  planning  with 
the  young  can  be  effected  and  distributed  among  the 
school,  the  church,  the  home,  and  other  agencies  of  soci- 
ety, it  is  probably  clear  that  the  school  cannot  confine 
itself  to  the  merely  intellectual.  As  everybody  knows, 
morality  as  well  as  intelligence  belongs  to  the  whole  of 
life,  and  the  school  is  forced  to  realize  its  responsibility  in 
this  direction.  The  particular  moral  questions  and  propos- 
als for  living  that  arise  in  the  school,  however,  are  natu- 
rally somewhat  different  from  those  which  arise  anywhere 
else,  and  if  the  school  deals  effectively  with  these,  it  has 
contributed  its  share  to  the  education  of  the  conscience. 

It  is  probably  clear  that  the  plans  for  life  suitable  to  the 
school,  if  they  are  to  arise  from  the  pupils  themselves,  or 
are  to  become  their  deep  possession,  cannot  be  outlined 
beforehand  by  the  wisest  executive  or  board  of  managers. 
General  expectations  may  be,  and  doubtless  should  be, 
expressed  as  fully  and  attractively  as  possible.  But  if  the 
[296] 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

moral  action  of  the  individual  is  to  rise  to  the  full  causality 
it  longs  for,  just  this  leading  and  controlling  feature  of 
moral  life  is  forced  to  become  selective  and  experimental. 
It  is  thus  the  things  that  pupils  themselves  think  are  suit- 
able to  be  undertaken  as  a  part  of  the  broadest  and  most 
educative  school  life  which  will  give  the  only  basis  for  the 
highest  moral  development  in  connection  with  the  school. 
It  is  plain  that  this  will  vary  according  to  the  vitality  and 
the  previous  conceptions  of  the  pupils,  the  kind  of  teachers, 
the  nature  of  the  material  resources,  the  sentiment  of  home 
and  outside  community,  or  whatever  influences  may  effect 
the  experiences  and  aspirations  of  the  young.  Such  activi- 
ties as  those  which  have  already  been  described  in  the 
chapter  on  self-organized  group  work  will  both  reveal  what 
the  nature  of  these  opportunities  will  be  and  test  the  dis- 
tance to  which  they  can  carry  the  moral  development  of 
those  whom  they  enlist. 

Where  conditions  are  favorable  and  individuals  sympa- 
thetic, plans  of  conduct,  usually  associated  with  a  good 
home  or  a  good  church,  may  appear  in  the  school ;  but  on 
the  other  hand,  where  the  home  and  the  church  are  already 
doing  their  full  work,  such  plans,  while  showing  their  influ- 
ence, would  probably  not  be  brought  bodily  into  the  school. 
Life  is  to  be  "  regarded  as  a  trust  held  for  the  benefit  of 
the  community,"  whether  in  school  or  church  or  home.  If 
allowed  to  act  and  react  upon  each  other  through  the  self- 
organized  plans  of  their  members,  these  social  agencies 
would,  in  all  probability,  mutually  and  almost  automatically 
supplement  each  other's  activity.  It  is  only  when  a  priori 
dogmatism  rules  that  hard-and-fast  demands  are  made 
that  the  home  and  the  school  must  do  this,  the  church 
[297] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 

that ;  and  since  the  church  and  the  home  have  already  won 
a  certain  measure  of  self-direction  for  their  members,  it  is 
the  school  which  suffers  first,  although  not  necessarily  last 
or  most. 

The  flower  and  fruit  of  the  moral  life  is  self-organized 
cooperative  production  for  the  service  and  upbuilding  of 
human  beings.  Let  the  opportunity  for  such  work  once  be 
blighted  or  impaired,  and  the  whole  subordinate  structure 
of  drill,  discipline,  and  obedience  becomes  but  a  carcass  of 
tyranny  and  oppression.  The  moral  life,  like  the  beautiful 
Spiraea  of  our  meadows,  rooted  often  in  marshy  soil,  builds 
up,  through  dark  and  sunny  days,  its  leafy  ladder  towards 
the  sky,  and  finally  unfolds  its  white  and  spiral  flower,  full 
of  sweetness,  to  every  breeze.  But  let  the  growing  bud  at 
the  center  be  cut  out  at  any  stage  in  its  growth,  and  the 
whole  supporting  stem  withers  and  dies,  as  if  it  knew  itself 
to  be  but  a  standard  bearer  for  the  germinating  flame  with 
which  it  blossoms  on  the  world. 


[298] 


INDEX 


Abbotsholme,  45 

Abbott,  Lyman,  290 

Ants,  group  on,  190 

Arithmetic,  135 

Arithmetic,  experiments  in,  194 

Art  and  economics,  278 

Art  and  sex,  273 

Art  and  work,  238 

Art  museum,  278 

Arts  and  crafts,  262 

Attic,  parable  of  the,  263 

Authority,  50 

Barnes,  Earl,  261 

Bathing,  rules  for,  47 

Bergson,  78 

Bird's  nest,  lesson  on,  187 

Blame,  288 

Book  binding,  group  for,  108 

Bosanquet,  22 

Brain  building,  244 

Biicher,  33 

Causation,  personal,  284 

Child  study,  261 

Civilization,  development  of,  1 1 

Clark,  Lotta,  150 

Clay  modeling,  case  of,  137 

Concept,  205 

Conscience,  281 

Consciousness,  form  of,  10 

Cooking,  87,  107 

Correlation,  28 

Course  of  study,  Dewey's,  91 

Crowd  psychology,  10 

Decoration  Day,  play  of,  125 
Degeneration  of  race,  44 
Democracy,  54 
Dewey  School,  78 
Discipline,  13,  50,  80,  82,  86,  94 
Discussion,  value  of,  294 
Division  of  labor,  238 
Drawing  books,  260 


Durkheim,  93 
Duties,  283 

Economic  strain,  70 

Egoism,  287 

Elocution,  215,  221 

Emotion,  226 

Envy,  288 

Ethical  Culture  School,  102,  232 

Ethics,  281 

Examinations,  27,  163 

Expectation,  209 

Expression,  222 

Eye-mindedness,  199 

Fear  and  art,  270 
Fear  and  literature,  224 
Fleming,  Martha,  232 
Force,  18,  64,  112 

Foreign    language,    52 ;    group   on, 
141  ;  reading  of,  200 

George  Junior  Republic,  58,  85 
Golden  rule,  213 
Grotesque,  the,  270 
Group  work  in  science,  156 
Groups,  going  to  pieces  of,  17  ;  self- 
organization  of,  102;  social,  15 

Hall,  G.  Stanley,  224 
Haney,  Dr.  J.  P.,  261 
Harris,  W.  T.,  199 
Haymaking,  rules  for,  49 
Herbartianism,  185 
History,  class  in,  142,  150 
Honor,  motive  of,  44,  70 
Hull,  Dr.  Wm.  I.,  59 

Idealism,  73 

Impressionism,  262 

Imperatives,  282 

Independence,  117,  192 

Independent  thinking,  13 

Indian  and  the  Hunter,  play  of,  122 


[299] 


SOCIAL  EDUCATION 


Individual,  rights  of,  19 
Individualism,  14 
Interest  and  expectation,  209 
Interest  and  production,  251 
Interests,  29,  30,  37,  53,  86 
Isolation,  82 

Jenks,  Jeremiah,  43 

Kiln,  26 

Kindergarten,  31 
Krauss,  Franz,  44,  256 

Language,  as  social,  205;   spoken, 

201 ;  written,  207 
Leadership,  98,  257 
Leadership,  proportion  of,  119 
Liberty,  19 

Lincoln,  Dr.  W.  F.,  73 
Lloyd,  H.  D.,  213,  238 
Loyalty,  50 
Lukens,  Dr.  Herman,  261 

Manny,  Frank,  102 

Manual  arts,  237 

Manual  arts  and  dramatizing,  245 

Manual  training,  28 

Marking,  168 

Mill,  J.  S.,  7,  78 

Moral  constraint  of  group,  1 5 

Motor  reaction  in  reading,  214,  243 

Mushrooms,  lesson  on,  181 

Myth,  183 

Myths,  226 

Obedience,  7,  16,  101 
Old  Pipes  and  the  Dryad,  the  play 
of,  146 

Patsy  and  Laura,  play  of,  234 
Payment  by  results,  27 
Photography  group,  114 
Planning  by  pupils,  133,  135 
Play,  22 

Post-office  group,  128 
Pragmatism,  79 
Primitive  people,  31 
Printing  group,  104,  127 
Psychology,  3 
Purpose  groups,  76,  100 


Ray  system,  74 

Reading,  90,   199,  207 ;    lesson  on, 

208,   210;    social   basis   of,  215; 

class  in,  218 
Reasoning,    170;    as  instinct,   178; 

age  for,  178;  as  social,  192 
Recitation,  the,  13 
Reddie,  Dr.  Cecil,  46 
Responsibility,  16,  20,  137,  282 
Rice,  Dr.  J.  M.,  37 
Richardson,  Elizabeth  M.,  277 
Roundness  of  earth,  179 
Rousseau,  30 

Scholarship,  165;  defects  of,  79,  80 

School,  experimental,  79,  80 ;  as  a 
cause,  6,  8,  15,  21 ;  as  an  effect,  6, 
8 ;  as  a  prophecy,  2 ;  tests  for 
the,  23 ;  as  organism,  43 ;  and 
home,  8 

Schools,  professional,  26;  second- 
hand, 12 

Self-control,  51,  57,  74 

Self-government,  75 

Self-organization,  66,  89,  242 

Shaw,  Clara,  234 

Sleeping  Beauty,  The,  play  of,  115 

Social  service,  25,  30,  36 

Society,  84 ;  development  of,  4 ; 
organization  of,  1 5 

Speech  of  child,  202 

Spencer,  Herbert,  93 

State,  the,  17 

Steam,  lesson  on,  176,  184 

Stories  for  children,  228 

Teaching,  profession  of,  39 
Temptation,  138 
Tools  of  production,  240 
Trade  schools,  253 

University  Elementary  School,  232 
Voting,  63 

Will,  91 

Williams,  Dora,  156 
Windlass,  case  of,  174 
Working  hypotheses,  171 
Wygant,  Elsie,  232 


[300] 


ANNOUNCEMENTS 


AMONG    COUNTRY    SCHOOLS 

By  O.  J.   KERN 
Superintendent  of  Schools,  Winnebago  County,  Illinois 


I2mo.     Cloth.     366  pages.     Illustrated.     List  price,  $  1.25  ;   mailing  price,  $1.35 


THE  author's  endeavor  in  preparing  this  work  has 
been  to  create  a  new  ideal  in  the  training  of  the 
country  child. 

The  book  is  the  result  of  seven  years  of  very  earnest 
thought  and  hard  work  in  an  endeavor  to  secure  for  the 
country  child  his  rights  so  far  as  an  educational  opportunity 
is  concerned.  The  country  school  should  have  that  freedom 
which  country  life  affords.  This  book  has  but  little  to  say 
about  the  mechanics  of  school  management 

In  the  training  of  children  and  the  development  of  char- 
acter no  greater  opportunity  can  be  offered  than  that  now 
presented  to  the  teacher  in  the  country  school.  The  author 
hopes  that  this  book  will  prove  suggestive  to  the  teacher  and 
school  officer  who  are  striving  for  the  spiritualization  of 
country  life  through  the  medium  of  the  school.  He  believes 
that  a  careful  reading  of  its  pages  will  show  a  practical  way 
of  interesting  the  "farm  child  through  farm  topics." 

Some  of  the  chapter  titles,  indicating  the  suggestions  given 
in  this  distinctly  novel  treatise,  are : 

THE  RIGHTS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  CHILD 
OUTDOOR  ART  — BEAUTIFYING  SCHOOL  GROUNDS 

INDOOR  ART  AND  DECORATION 

A  FARMER  BOY'S  EXPERIMENT  CLUB 

THE  COUNTRY  SCHOOL  AND  THE  FARMERS'  INSTITUTE 


GINN  &   COMPANY  PUBLISHERS 


ASPECTS  OF  CHILD  LIFE  AND 
EDUCATION 

By  G.  STANLEY  HALL,   President  of  Clark  University  and  Professor  of 
Psychology,  and  Some  of  His  Pupils 


Cloth.      316  pages 


DURING  the  last  twenty  years  one  of  the  lines 
of  research  carried  on  by  President  G.  Stanley 
Hall  and  students  working  under  his  direction,  at 
Clark  University,  has  been  the  psychology  of  child- 
hood and  its  applications  to  education.  These 
researches  have  been  published  in  the  University 
periodicals,  which  are  of  necessity  expensive  and 
limited  in  circulation,  and  have  not,  therefore, 
hitherto  been  available  to  the  general  public.  The 
object  of  the  present  volume,  which  is  to  be  the 
first  of  a  series,  is  to  make  accessible  to  parents 
and  teachers,  in  somewhat  condensed  form  and 
at  moderate  price,  the  results  of  these  researches 
which  are  now  recognized  as  of  fundamental 
importance  in  all  educational  work. 

GINN  &  COMPANY  PUBLISHERS 


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